


Son of Lord Voldemort

by BoundedTrident



Series: Voldemort and His Son's Rise [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Alternate Universe, Bad Albus Dumbledore, Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Evil Albus Dumbledore, Gryffindor Bashing, Hermione Granger Bashing, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Minor Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Ron Weasley Bashing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:35:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 31,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23380291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoundedTrident/pseuds/BoundedTrident
Summary: Salem starts his adventure with his first year of course. Follow his journey as he, and Draco Malfoy create havoc within Hogwarts.Tom Riddle is a pureblood instead of a Half-Blood, his father Tom was a pureblood who hated squibs resulting him in leaving her to have Tom at the orphanage and then dying.I need your help to improve my work!You can contribute by emailing me at boundedtwrites@gmail.com!
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: Voldemort and His Son's Rise [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1681594
Comments: 10
Kudos: 44





	1. Prologue

# «-(¯'v'¯)-« ρяσℓσgυε »-(¯'v'¯)-»

#### «-(¯'v'¯)-« נυℓү 31, 1980 »-(¯'v'¯)-»

____________________

Lord Voldemort paced outside of his bedroom door as he waited for his Elven wife to give birth to their son, Salem Salazar Riddle if it was a boy or Syndra Salazar Riddle if it was a girl, they agreed to call the babe.

Narcissa Malfoy, a healer who was helping with the birth, peaked her head out of the door.

" My Lord, the baby has been born, you may come in now. " She said.

The Lord goes into the room where his elven wife, Aelinor, sat on the bed holding a baby boy. She smiles weakly at him.

" Meet your son, Tom.." The babe had a tuff of black hair on his head, his ears were slightly pointed.

He smiles softly, and goes to sit on the bed with them.

____________________

James Potter held Lily Potter's hand as she tried her best to push the baby out.

"You're doing great, Lils." He said, but his word was drowned out by Lily screams.

After a short while, they heard panting from Lily as the baby was finally out of her stomach, but they didn't hear the baby..

" James.. My baby... Where's my baby..?" Lily panted.

" I-i don't know, Lils... "

" Mr. and Mrs. Potter, a word please?" A healer said.

" Is there something wrong with our baby?"

The healer sighed, " Your baby has gone through a stillbirth, Saint. Mungos sends our condolences. "

" M-my baby is dead..? " Lily had started sobbing and James pulls her into his chest.

____________________

«-(¯'v'¯)-« 𝒮𝑒𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇 30, 1980 »-(¯'v'¯)-»

____________________

Aelinor sat in a rocking chair in the nursery, breastfeeding her baby.

Salem was soon done and let go, she pulled her bra and her shirt up. Aelinor put him inside of his crib, not before kissing him on the forehead.

Aelinor turned around when she felt a presence, that wasn't Tom's, his scent smelt like chocolate this one smelt like roasted nuts , behind her.

" Who are you and why are you here?"

Instead of the brown-haired and hazel-eyed male answering with words he cast a spell on her, " **Sectumsempra!** "

She was blasted back to the wall hitting the floor with a thud, blood gushing out of her stomach.

The man, who is identified by James Potter, picked up the crying baby, he looks behind him and seeing a livid Tom Riddle, he apparates away before Tom could do anything.

Tom goes over to Aelinor and uses Parseltongue to heal Aelinor.

"Tom... Tom... he- he took—"

" I know, My love, I know.. I swear I will get him back.."

Aelinor cries into Tom's robes.

____________________

«-(¯'v'¯)-« σcтσвεя 31, 1981 »-(¯'v'¯)-»

____________________

Today was the day where Tom and Aelinor would get their baby back from the Potter's nasty hands.

Wormtail had told them where the Potter has been hiding, as they put him a Secret Keeper while they were under the Fidelius Charm, to keep "hidden" from Voldemort, but little did they know that their chosen Secret Keeper was a rat.

The Dark Lord and Lady walked up to the house of the Potters in Godric's Hollow. Tom blasted the door away.

" Lily, take Harry and Violet and go! It's him! I'll hold him off!" (Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.)

" **Avada Kadavra.** "

" My Lady, go get our child back. "

" Yes, My Lord. " Aelinor goes after Lily, who was now in the nursery.

" Not Harry, not Violet, please not Harry!"

" Stand aside, you silly girl. . . stand aside now. . ."

"Not Harry. . . not Violet, please no, take me, kill me instead —"

" Not Harry! Please. . . have mercy. . . have mercy. . . " (Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban- p.239)

" **Avada Kadavra.** "

Lily fell to the floor, her bright red hair falling all over her face.

She picked Salem out of the crib and held him close.

" **Avada Kedavra.** " She cast on the other baby. The spell rebounded and came after Aelinor, who blocked said curse with powerful Elfish magic, leaving the baby unconscious and nothing but a lightning bolt scar on her forehead.

She headed quickly back downstairs where Tom was waiting.

" Tom, my boy, put Harry Potter down, let us talk about this." A voice came from behind them, they turned to see who it was.

" Do not call me your boy, I am and never will be your boy, there is no Harry Potter, this is my heir, not the Potter's." Tom sneered.

Dumbledore sighs and pulls his wand out, Tom and Aelinor apparates before Dumbledore could do anything.

Tom took that disgusting glamor of his son, black messy hair and the Killing Curse green eyes, but he did make sure to write it up and lock it away.

" Mama? Papa? " Salem spoke.

Aelinor was shocked and started crying, Tom came over to her and wrapped all three in a hug, soothing her.

" I- I'm sorry. . . but we missed our baby saying his first words, him walking— " She was sobbing by now.

" I know, I know.. "

He held them both close to his chest.

____________________

αυgυsт 14, 1986

sαℓεм ιs ησω 6

____________________

Salem sat bored in his room, still pouting that he couldn't go to the raid with his father and mother. Draco Malfoy was also there, but there was nothing for the two adolescent boys to do.

A few minutes later, Salem heard the wards go off. He got up and left the room going down the stairs he saw his Father carrying his Mother, who appeared to be passed out, or even worse dead...

" Father..? W-what's wrong with Mother..? " Salem hesitantly ask, fearing the worst has happened.

" Your Mother was hit with a spell that I do not know of, yet, Salem. For now, you need to go back to your room. "

" Yes, Father.." Salem responded and headed upstairs, back to his room. Tears were ready to fall out of his eyes at any given moment.

" Sal? Are you okay? " Draco saw the tears in his eyes and was instantly on alert.

Salem shook his head, he closed his eyes the tears falling out of his eyes, he was soon embraced in a hug.

" It's alright Sal. You're going to be okay. . ."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, there you have it.
> 
> If anyone is confused with the ending let me explain it. Salem's mom, Aelinor, was hit with an elvish spell named Hilfaquna, it's a sleeping spell that induces comas.
> 
> Yes, Aelinor is in an elvish coma, but no spoilers.
> 
> Keep Reading to find out if she wakes or not!
> 
> вσυη∂ε∂тяι∂εηт


	2. «-(¯'v'¯)-« cнαρтεя 1 »-(¯'v'¯)-»

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone.
> 
> UPDATES 6/7/20 (7/6/20) 
> 
> I had noticed that I hadn't really like the name Ebony when I was going back to edit my pieces of work. So I decide that it'll be best if I completely change the name Ebony completely with a name that I actually like. I hope you can like the name just as much as I do.

# «-(¯'v'¯)-« ѕαℓєм яι∂∂ℓє'ѕ нσgωαятѕ ℓєттєя »-(¯'v'¯)-»

  
**________________**  
  
**_Words_** \- Parseltongue  
Words- Storyline   
_Words_ \- Spells

**_______________**  
  
  


5 year later, Salem Riddle was found, sitting on his bed reading "Quidditch Through the Ages" for the 10th time.

There was a tap at the window that Salem decided to ignore. The tapping had grown intense causing Salem to finally look at the window. It was a barn owl holding a letter within their beak. Salem heads to the window and opens it, he took the letter and inspects it.

Before leaving his room, he slipped a black mask on as well as Slytherin green robes.

He burst into the Great Hall, where his Father currently resided, with his Outer Circle.

He held his head up high, daring anyone to question his power as he walked up to his father, sitting on his throne with his head also held high, ready to curse any of his death eaters if need be.

" ** _Salem_**." Tom greeted in Parseltongue to keep their conversation private.

" ** _Father_**." He casually passes him the letter. Tom inspects the letter seeing the Hogwarts crest and sneering.

" **_We'll go to Diagon Ally with the Malfoys later this evening, now go send back your reply_**."

" **_Yes, Father._** " Salem left the Great Hall.

**_______________**

Lord Voldemort soon finished the meeting with his death eaters, he walked to the Living room where Salem, Draco Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy, and Bellatrix Lestrange were quietly talking, waiting for him.

The newly glamoured Tom had green eyes, black with a blue hue hair, and a chiseled jawline.

" Let us go, I have much to do when we get back. " Tom spoke, he held his forearm out to Salem, hinting him to grab on, he complies.

Draco grabs onto his father. The group proceeds to apparate to Dragon Ally.

Today was rather busy as other Hogwarts students and their parents were shopping for Hogwarts essentials.

A plump woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying, "Dragon liver, sixteen Sickles an ounce, they're mad. . . ."

A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium — Tawny, Screech, Barns, Brown, and Snowy. Several boys around Salem's and Draco's age had their nose pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. " Look." Salem heard one of them say, " the new Nimbus Two Thousand — fastest ever —" There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and silver instruments ( section deleted ), windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eye, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon . . . .

"Gringotts," sneered Tom.

They had reached a snowy white building that towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was —

" Goblins.." Bella scoffed quietly as they walked up the white stone steps towards him. The goblin was about a head shorter than Salem. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Salem noticed, very long fingers and feet. He bowed as they walked inside. Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time with words engraved upon them:

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._  
  
  


(Section deleted)

A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors and they were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. The group made for the counter.

" My Lord, " The goblin had lowered his head in a bow.

Tom merely nodded as his greeting to the goblin.

" I assume you are here to withdraw from your vaults, My Lord?"

" Indeed we are, Gringuss."

" Very well," He said. ( section deleted) " I will have someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!"

Griphook was yet another goblin,(section deleted) the group followed Griphook toward one of the doors leading off the hall.   
  
  


**_______________**  
  
  


" You two might as well get your uniforms at Madam Malkin's." Lucius pointed out.

The group had just recently left Gringotts, the males in the group were now on their way to Flourish and Blotts to buy their needed school books, while the two females went to go look at wands for the two boys. Salem and Draco nodded as a reply and went the other way to Madam Malkin's.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed in mauve.

" Hogwarts, dear?" she said. (section deleted)

The boys nod. She tells them to stand on the stool, and to put a long black robe on, which they complied.

She had started to pin Draco's robe when a black haired girl came in.

Madam Malkin had rushed her onto a stool, she had slipped a long black robe over her head just like the two other boys.

"Hello, " said Draco. " Hogwarts, too? "

" Yes. "said the girl.

" My Father's next door buying my books and Mother's up the street looking for wands. " said the boy, he had a bored, drawling voice. " Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why First years cant have their own. I think I'll bully Father into buying me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

" It's a safety reason, Dray, I thought you knew this. " Salem said.

Draco ignored him, " Have _you_ got your own broom?"

" No," said the girl. If Salem had to guess he would say that they were talking to either a Muggle-born or a Half-blood who grew up around muggles, knowing nothing about the Magical World until now.

" Play Quidditch at all?"

" No,"

 _" I_ do — Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my House, and I must say, I agree. Know what House you'll be in yet?"

" No,"

" Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all of our family have been — imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?" 

" Mmm,"

" I say, look at that man! " said the boy suddenly, nodding towards the front window, a giant man was standing there, grinning at the girl and pointing at two large ice creams to show he couldn't come in.

" That's Hagrid, " Said the girl, pleased to know something that the boy didn't. " He works at Hogwarts. "

" Oh, I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he? "

" He's the gamekeeper. " Said the girl. She was liking the boy less and less every second.

" Yes, exactly. I heard he's sort of a _savage_ — lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed. "

" I think he's brilliant," she said coldly.

" _Do_ you? " The boy said with a slight sneer. " Why is he with you? Where are your parents? "

" They're dead, " she said shortly. As if she didn't feel like going into the matter with the boy.

" Oh, sorry, " said Draco, not sounding sorry at all. " But they were our kind, weren't they?"

" They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean."

Salem guess was correct, she is a Half-blood, living with Muggles, and haven't known a single think about the Magical World until now. 

" I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway? "

Before the girl could answer, Madam Malkin said, " That's you done, my dears. " The boys hopped down from the barstool.

" Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose. " said the drawling boy, otherwise know as Draco Malfoy.

The boys left the shop and found Lucius, Narcissa, and Bellatrix waiting for them near the doors.

" Now we need to hurry to Ollivanders, Salem, your father already left he says he has important business that he needs to tend to now. " Lucius claims.

Salem rolled his eyes, " As always. " he drawled out.

The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wand since 382 ʙ.ᴄ. A single wand lay on the faded purple cushion in the dusty window.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a few spindly chairs that the adults sat on to wait.

(section deleted)

**_______________**  
  
  
  


Draco had gone first and, after going through a couple of different wands, gotten a 10" precisely, Hawthorn wood and with a dragon heartstrings core. Now it was Salem's turn.

" Well now — Mr. Riddle. Let me see. " He pulled out a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. " Which is your wand arm? "

"I'm ambidextrous, sir. "

" Hold out your preferred arm. That's it. " He measured Salem from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to the floor, knee to armpit, and round his head. As he measured, he said, " Every Ollivander wand has a core of powerful magical substance, Mr. Riddle. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstring of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are the quite the same. And of course you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand. "

Salem suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between his nostrils, was doing this on its own. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.

" That will do, " He said, and the tape measure crumbled into a heap on the floor. Right then, Mr. Riddle. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave. "

Salem took the wand and waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hands almost at once.

" Maple, and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try — "

Salem tried — but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.

" No, no — here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out."

Salem tried. And tried. He had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wand was mounting higher and higher on another spindly chair, blimey, it was higher than Draco's pile, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

" Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere — I wonder, now — yes, why not — unusual combination — holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple. "

Salem took the wand. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wand above his head, brought is swishing down through the dust air and a stream of green and sliver sparks shot from the end forming the shape of a snake, throwing dancing spots of light onto the walls. The adults and Draco politely clapped and Mr. Ollivander cried out, " Oh bravo! Yes, indeed, oh very good. Well, well, well. . . how curious, how very curious. . . "

He put Salem's wand back into its box ad wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, " Curious. . . curious. . . " 

" My apologies, " said Salem. " but _what's_ curious? "

Mr. Ollivander fixed Salem with his pale stare.

" I remember every wand I sold, Mr. Riddle. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail is in your wand, gave another feather — just one other. It is very curious indeed that you are destined for this wand when it's brother — why, it's brother is your father's wand. "

Salem smirked.

" Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember. . . . I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Riddle. . . . After all. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things, terrible, yes, but great." (- Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone pgs. 71-85 )

Salem's smirk widened. He paid the fourteen Galleons for his and Draco's wand. The group leaves to shop.

" Before we head back to the Manor, Salem, your father wants you to pick out a familiar at Magical Menagerie. Draco, darling, we will go to Eeylops Owl Emporium right after so you can get the owl you wanted. " Narcissa says.

The group heads into Magical Menagerie. Salem instantly sees a snake that catches his interest. He identified it as a Black Mamba. Salem felt a special connection with him, he opens the cage, the snake slithering onto his arm instantly. 

" ** _Hello Bond-Mate, you may name me as you like._** "

" **_Hmm. . . How about– Asmodeus._** "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> вσυη∂ε∂тяι∂εηт


	3. «-(¯'v'¯)-« cнαρтεя 2 »-(¯'v'¯)-»

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone.  
> Said book is made by J.K. Rowling, I recommend reading the series.

# «-(¯'v'¯)-« нσgωαятs εxρяεss αη∂ тнε sσятιηg. . . »-(¯'v'¯)-»

**________________**

**_Words_** \- Parseltongue  
Words- Storyline   
**Words** \- Spells

**________________**

Salem woke up at the crack of dawn on September 1. He smartens himself up with a dark forest green robe with silver fastenings. As soon as he finished he headed downstairs into the Dining Hall.

" Good morning, Father. " Salem greeted, his father was reading the Daily Prophet, sipping his coffee.

" Morning, Salem. "

Salem sat down, a house-elf appeared and laid his plate of food in front of him. A couple of minutes later he finishes.

" Salem, before we leave to the Platform, I have a— gift for you."

" Yes Father?"

"Come here," Tom says, softly. Salem does as he's told. Tom puts a locket around his neck. " I want you to promise me that you will never take this off, it will insure me that you are safe while at Hogwarts, the locket can also be used as an emergency porkey."

" I understand Father. I promise to never take it off."

" Thank you my son, hide it under your robes, the locket mustn't be seen in public. "

Salem nods, putting the locket under his robe. He shivered when the cold metal touched his skin.

**________________**  
  
  
  


The father and son duo had appareted to _Platform 9_ ¾ early so Salem and his group of friends can get a good compartment.

Salem headed on the scarlet train billowing smoke. He soon found the perfect compartment with Draco, Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass, Blaise Zabini, Gregory Goyle, and Vincent Crabbe already there.

They talked about their summer, and joked around. Salem took this time to think about what adventure his Father will put him through at Hogwarts, seeing as his Father's nemesis, Albus Dumbledore, is currently the headmaster there.

An hour later the train had started moving, Draco, Goyle, Crabbe and Salem all had gotten up to stretch their legs. While they walked down the train they heard excited whispers about Violet Potter being in the second compartment. Draco had suggested they go see if it true or not.

Draco slid the compartment door open. There was a girl — Violet Potter — and a Weasley sitting opposite from each other.

Salem recognized her as the girl from Madam Malkin's.

" Is it true?" Draco said. " They're saying all down the train that Violet Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, isn't it?"

" Yes," said Violet, she was looking at Crabbe, who was standing beside Salem, and Goyle who was standing beside Draco.

" This is Crabbe, and this is Goyle. " Said the pale boy carelessly, noticing where Violet was looking. " I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy. "

Salem stared at the Weasel and Potter before saying: " Riddle, Salem Riddle. "

Ron gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger. Draco Malfoy looked at him.

" Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My Father told me that all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children then they can afford. "

He turned back to Violet. " You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there. "

He held out his hand to shake Violet's, but Violet didn't take it.

" I think I can tell who's the wrong sort are for myself, thanks, " She said coldly.

Draco Malfoy didn't go red, but a pink tinge appeared in his pale cheeks.

" I'd be careful if I were you, Potter, " He said slowly. " Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you."

Both Violet and Ron stood up.

" Say that again, " Ron said, his face as red as his hair.

" Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" Malfoy sneered.

" Unless you get out now. " said Violet.

" But we don't feel like leaving, do we boys? We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some. "

Goyle reached out toward the Chocolate Frogs next to Ron — Ron leapt forward, but before he'd so much as touched Goyle, Goyle let out a horrible yell as Scabbers the rat was about to jump onto his hand to bite it.

Before it could reach Goyle's hand, Scabbers was stopped in mid-air.

Salem growled, " Enough! Malfoy, you and I need a serious talk. " With a flick of his left wrist, Scabbers hit the window. Salem stormed out, followed by an even paler Draco, Crabbe and Goyle.

**________________**

Salem and Draco now stood in the boy's bathroom, Draco was cowering against the wall as Salem glared and sneered at him.

" Mind telling me what the bloody hell that was?" Salem's voice was rather calm but held a strain on it.

" W-well, I thought that it would be a good idea to mess them up a bit, you know..?"

" No, I don't know Malfoy."  
  
  


**__________________ **  
  
  
  


A voice echoed through the train: " We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately. "

( section deleted )

The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way towards the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Salem inwardly laughed at the other first years, not at his group of course, that shivered in the cold night air, having already a heating charm on his robes as well as on his groups' robes. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students (section deleted).

" Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Violet? "

Hagrid's big hair face beamed over the sea of heads.

" C'mon, follow me — any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Slipping and tumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Salem thought there must be thick tree there. Nobody spoke much. Neville, the boy who kept losing his toad, sniffed once or twice.

" Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec, " Hagrid called over his shoulder, " jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud "Oooooh!" which caused Salem and his group to roll their eyes.

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lack. Perched atop a mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

" No more'n four to a bout!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Salem's group was forced to split up into two groups — Salem, Draco, Pansy, and Daphne in group one, leaving Blaise, Gregory, and Vincent in group two.

" Everybody in?" Shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. " Right then — FORWARD!"

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smoothed as glass. Most was silent, staring up at the great castle ahead. It toward over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

" Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff, they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out onto the rocks and pebbles.

" Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" Said Hagrid, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them.

" Trevor!" cried Neville blissfully, holding out his hands. Then they clambered up onto a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.

" Everybody here? You there, still got yer toad?"

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

The door swung open at once. A tall, black haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and Salem instantly knew that he had to get on her good side, as this witch was not someone to cross.

" The firs' year, Professor McGonagall, " said Hagrid.

" Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was so big you could have fit the whole of an ordinary Muggle's house in it. The stone wall was lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the celling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them leaf to the upper floors. They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Salem could hear he drone of hundreds of voices , his elf-like ears already picking up what some conversations were about, from a doorway to the right — the rest of the school must already be here — but Professor Mcgonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together then they should usually have done, peering about nervously.

" Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. " The start of the year banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room.

" The four Houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each House has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your House points , while any rule breaking will lose House points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to which ever House becomes yours.

" The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can as you are waiting."

Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on the Weasley's smudged nose. The girl, who Salem and Draco had met at Madam Malkin's and who Hagrid had called Violet, nervously tried to fix her hair.

" I shall return when we are ready for you, " said Professor McGonagall. " Please wait quietly."

She left the chamber.

(section deleted)

Something happened that made Violet jump about a foot in the air — serval people behind her screamed.

" What the — ? "

She gasped. So did the people around her. About twenty ghost has streamed through the back wall. Pearly white, and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk saying: " Forgive and Forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance —"

" My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not not even a ghost — I say, what are you all doing here?"

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly notice the first years.

Nobody answered.

" New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. " About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

A few people nodded mutely.

" Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" Said Friar. " My old House, you know."

" Move along now," Said a sharp voice. " The Sorting Ceremony's about to begin."

Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghost floated away through the opposite wall.

" Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the fist years, " and follow me."

Salem held his chin high, suddenly gaining his Pure-blood etiquette, Salem got into line behind a boy with sandy hair, with Draco behind him, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

Salem never dropped his Pure-Blood etiquette while they walked into the Great Hall. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets.At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candle-light. Dotted here and there among there students, the ghost shone misty sliver. But even with hundreds of faces staring at him, Salem did not drop his etiquette. Although he heard a girl whisper, with his ears it was impossible for people to have their own privacy while he was around, seeing as his mother was never around to teach him to block it out, " It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in _Hogwarts: A History_."

The girl was obviously talking about the celling. Professor McGonagall silently placed a four legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. Aunt Narcissa wouldn't have let it in the house.

For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth — at the hat began to sing:

_" Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_  
_But don't judge on what you see,_  
_I'll eat myself if you can find_  
_A smarter hat than me._  
_You can keep your bowlers black,_  
_Your top hats sleek and tall,_  
_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_  
_And I can cap them all._  
_There's nothing hidden in your head_  
_The Sorting Hat can't see,_  
_So try me on and I will tell you_  
_Where you ought to be._  
_You might belong in Gryffindor,_  
_Where dwell the brave at heart,_  
_Their daring, nerve and chivalry_  
_Set Gryffindors apart;_  
_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_  
_Where they are just and loyal,_  
_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_  
_And unafraid of toil;_  
_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_  
_If you've a ready mind,_  
_Where those of wit and learning,_  
_Will always find their kind;_  
_Or perhaps in Slytherin_  
_You'll make your real friends,_  
_Those cunning folk use any means_  
_To achieve their ends._  
_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_  
_And don't get in a flap!_  
_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_  
_For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

The whole hall bursted into applause as the hat finished it's song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

(section deleted)

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

" When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. " Abbott, Hannah! "

A pink faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment pause —

" HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Salem saw the ghost of the Fat Friar wave merrily at her.

" Bones, Susan!"

" HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.

" Boot, Terry!"

" RAVENCLAW!"

The table from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender" became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers.

"Bulstrode, Millicent" then became a Slytherin. 

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Sometimes, Salem noticed, the hat shouted out the house at once, but at others it took a little while to decide. "Finnigan, Seamus," the sandy-haired boy next to Salem in the line, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.   
  


"Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head.  
  


"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat.

When Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, was called, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR," Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it t o "MacDougal, Morag."

" Malfoy, Draco "

Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"

Draco went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself.

There weren't many people left now. "Moon" "Nott" "Parkinson" then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil" then "Perks, Sally-Anne" and then, at last -- "Potter, Violet"

As Violet stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

" Potter, did she say?"

" The Violet Potter?"

Salem inwardly rolled his eyes.

It didn't take to long for Violet to be declared a Gryffindor, Salem knew that was coming. He would have to keep an eye on her for the year.

The Gryffindor table bursted into the loudest cheers, shouting; " We got Potter! We got Potter! "

" Riddle, Salem! "

The last thing Salem saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the Slytherin Table, and some of the Ravenclaw's tense. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat.

" Hmm," said a small voice in his ear said. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, A my goodness, yes -- and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting.... So where shall I put you?"

Salem gripped the edges of the stool and thought, _Not Gryffindor, not Hufflepuff._

"Not Gryffindor or Hufflepuff, eh?" said the small voice. "Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Gryffindor will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that -- no? Well, if you're sure -- better be SLYTHERIN!"

Salem got off the stool and took the hat off his head, leaving the hat on the stool he walked over to the Slytherin table with pride, his chin still up, the Slytherin's above him bowed their heads as he past, recognizing him as Voldemort's son, those who dared not to bow their head would get a Crucio by his father.

He sat next to Draco and Pansy, at the end of their table.

He could see the High Table properly now. At the end nearest him sat Severus Snape, who caught his eye and gave him the stare. Salem smirked. And there, in the center of the High Table, in a large gold chair, sat Albus Dumbledore. Salem recognized him at once from pictures, and when Dumbledore and the Potter's kidnapped him. Dumbledore's silver hair was the only thing in the whole hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts. Salem spotted Professor Quirrell, too, the nervous young man from the Outer Circle. He was looking very peculiar in a large purple turban.

And now there were only three people left to be sorted. "Thomas, Dean," a Black boy even taller than the Weasley, joined Violet at the Gryffindor table. "Turpin, Lisa," became a Ravenclaw and then it was the Weasel's turn. He was pale green by now. A second later the hat had shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Salem couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes.

"Zabini, Blaise," was made a Slytherin and sat himself across from Pansy. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.

Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

"Thank you!"

He sat back down. Everybody — except the Slytherin's — clapped and cheered. Salem sneered quietly.

The dishes in front of him were now piled with food. Roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs.

**________________**

At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.

"Ahern -- just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins.  
"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Salem got the message he was trying to send to Potter, he wants her and her little group to travel to he third-floor corridor on the right-hand side.

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore.Salem noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed.

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.

"Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!" And the school — excluding the Slytherins — bellowed:  
  


"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,  
Teach us something please,  
Whether we be old and bald  
Or young with scabby knees,  
Our heads could do with filling  
With some interesting stuff,  
For now they're bare and full of air,  
Dead flies and bits of fluff,  
So teach us things worth knowing,  
Bring back what we've forgot,  
just do your best, we'll do the rest,  
And learn until our brains all rot.

Most finished the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.  
  
  


"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

The Slytherin first years followed Marcus Flint through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and to a bare stretch of stone wall in the dungeons. 

A bundle of walking sticks was floating in midair ahead of them, and as Percy took a step toward them they started throwing themselves at him.

"Peeves," Marcus whispered to the first years. "A poltergeist." He raised his voice, "Peeves -- show yourself"

A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answered.

"Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?"

There was a pop, and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross- legged in the air, clutching the walking sticks.

"Oooooooh!" he said, with an evil cackle. "Ickle Firsties! What fun!"

He swooped suddenly at them. They all ducked.

"Go away, Peeves, or the Baron'll hear about this, I mean it!" barked Marcus.

Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished, dropping the walking sticks on Millicent's head. They heard him zooming away, rattling coats of armor as he passed.

"You want to watch out for Peeves," said Marcus. "The Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him, he won't even listen to us prefects. though he usually leaves us Slytherins alone.Here we are." ( Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone- pgs 108-130) 

At the very end of the corridor hung a portrait of a serpent.

" The password is Salazar. " said Marcus, the portrait swung open to reveal a passageway in the wall. They went through it — and they found themselves in the Slytherin common room. It was a large room sporting a several shades of green and adorned with portraits of serpents.

" Before you can go to your dorms, a few things need to be said. Never burn your bridges, keep your friends close and your enemies closer, always get back up again, sometimes being near power is better than being in power, protect your dreams at all costs, only let your guard down when you have a good reason, know when to follow a rule and when to break it, mind your audience before you speak, forget what they think — unless it can be used to your advantage, and remember: you are worthy. "

" Im glad to see you are giving some worthy — advice, Flint. " A voice drawled from the shadows, causing few to jump.

The voice came out from the shadows, it had belonged to Severus Snape, the Head of the House.

**________________**  
  
  
  


Snape had soon let the first years go to their dorms after a " few words, " that became a speech to them.

Salem had found his dorm he was paired with Draco, Theodore Nott, and Blaise. Entering the dorm room, he found the room full of his, and roommates articles. He plopped his entire body down on the bed, feeling the day's exhaustion catch up on him. Asmodeus slithered in next to him, coiling.

" **I assume your day was tiring, Bond-Mate?** "

" **Indeed it was, Asmodeus.** "


	4. «-(¯'v'¯)-« cнαρтεя 3 »-(¯'v'¯)-»

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone.  
> Said book is owned by J.K. Rowling, I recommend reading the series.

# «-(¯'v'¯)-« sεттℓιηg ιηтσ нσgωαятs »-(¯'v'¯)-»

**________________**

  
**_Words_** \- Parseltongue  
Words- Storyline   
**Words** \- Spells

**________________**

There was a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you ask politely, or tickled them in the exactly right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and Salem wasn't surprised that the coats of armor could walk.

The ghost didn't help, either. It was alway a nasty shock when one of them glided through a door you were trying to open. The Bloody Baron made sure Peeves stayed away from the First Years, he even pointed them in the right direction of a class when asked. But the Slytherins happened to see what Peeves were doing to the other First years in other Houses; drop wastepaper baskets on their heads, pull rugs from under their feet, pelt them with bits of chalk, or sneak up behind them, invisible, grab their nose, and screech, " GOT YOUR CONK!"

Even worse than Peeves, if that was possible, was the caretaker, Argus Filch. Salem and his group managed to get on the wrong side of him on their very first morning. Filch found them trying to force their way through a door that unluckily had turned out to be the entrance to the out-of-bounds corridor on he third floor. He wouldn't believe they were lost, was sure they were trying to break into it on purpose, and was threatening to lock them in the dungeons when they were rescued by Professor Quirrell, who was passing.

Filch owned a cat called Mrs. Norris, a scrawny, dusty colored creature with bulging, lamplike eyes just like Filch's. She patrolled the corridors alone. Break a rule in front of her, put just one toe out of line, and she'll whisk you off to Filch, who'd appear, wheezing, two seconds later. Filch knew the secret passageways of the school better than anyone and could pop up as suddenly as any of the ghost. The students all hated him, and it was the dearest ambition of many to give Mrs. Norris a good kick.

And then, once you had managed to find them, there were classes themselves. But it was no ordinary Muggle school class. They had to study the night skies through their telescopes every Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the movement of the planets. Three times a week they went out to greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a dumpy little witch called Professor Sprout, where they learned how to take care of all strange plants an fungi, and found out what they were used for.

Easily the most boring class was History of Magic, which was the only one taught by a ghost. Professor Binns had been very old indeed when he had fallen asleep in front of the staffroom fire and gotten up the next day to teach, leaving his body behind him. Binns droned on and on while they scribbled down names and dates, and got Emeric the Evil and Uric the Oddball mixed up.

Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. At the start of their first class he took role call, When he reached Salem's name he gave a terrified squeak and toppled out of sight.

Professor McGonagall was again different. Salem had been quite right to think she wasn't a teacher to cross. Strict and clever, she gave them a talking-to the moment they sat down in her first class.

" Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. " Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned. "

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. They were all very impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but soon realized they weren't going to be changing furniture into animals for a long time . After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Draco and Salem had made a difference to their match; Professor McGonagall showed the class how it had gone a sliver and pointy and gave each boys a rare smile.

The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, — well, everyone but the Death Eater Children — but Quirrell's lesson turned to be a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he'd meet in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these day. His turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but they weren't sure they were believing this story. For one thing, when Tracy Davis asked eagerly to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather; for another, they had noticed that a funny smell hung around the turban, and Dirk Lynch, a 5th year Slytherin, insisted that it was stuff full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went.

Friday was an important day for Salem and his group. They finally managed to find their way to the Great Hall without getting lost once.

" What have we got today? " Draco asked Salem as he poured sugar on his porridge.

" Double Potions with Gryffindor, " said Salem " Have mercy on Sevy's soul, he's going to go insane with Potter around. " Salem chuckles.

They laugh. Just then, the mail arrived. Salem had gotten use to the sound by now, but it had given him quite a headache on the first morning, when a hundred owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall, making he noise even louder.

Salem did have his own an owl hat he barely used, but his Father did. His snowy owl dropped a letter in his lap and accepted a piece of toast before flying away. On the front of the letter it said not to open the letter until he was alone. Salem knew it was from his Father it was in his neat scripted handwriting.

He stuck it in his bag.

**________________**

Potions lesson took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder her than up in the main castle, — luck enough, Salem already had the heating charm on his robes and his friends — and would have been creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.

Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the role call, and like Flitwick, he paused at Violet's name.

" Ah, yes," he said softly, " Violet Potter. Our new — _celebrity_."

Salem Riddle and his friends sniggered behind their hands. Snape finished calling out names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagrid's, but they held none of Hagrid's warmth. They were cold, empty and made you think of dark tunnels.

" You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word — like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. " As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly shimmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creeps through human veins, bewitching the mind, enduring the senses. . . I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death — if you aren't as big as a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach. "

More silence followed this little speech. Salem mouthed to his group; " They broke Sevy. They officially broke Sevy. "

" Potter!" said Snape suddenly. " What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Hermione's hand had shot into the air.

" I don't know, sir, " said Violet.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer.

" Tut, tut— fame clearly isn't everything. "

He ignored Hermione's hand.

" Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat. Salem and his group was shaking with laughter.

" I don't know, sir,"

" Thought you would have open a bool before coming, eh, Potter?"

Snape was still ignoring Hermione's quivering hand.

" What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching towards the dungeon ceiling.

" I don't know, sir, " said Violet quietly. " I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"

A few people laughed.

" Sit down, " He snapped at Hermione. " Riddle, care to answer my questions. "

" Asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it's known as the Draught of the Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant which also goes by aconite. " Salem answered.

" 20 points to Slytherin for preparing before coming to class. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

There was a sudden rummage for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Snape said, " And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter."

Things didn't improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape put them all in pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Malfoy and Riddle, who he seemed to like. He was telling everyone to look at the perfect way Malfoy and Riddle had stewed their horned slugs when clouds or acid green smoke and loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus Finnigan's cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes . Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

" Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. " I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?

Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.

" Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Seamus. Then he rounded on Violet and Ron who had been working next to Neville.

"You — Potter — why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor."

Violet opened her mouth to argue, but closed it and winced.

As the group of our favorite Slytherins climbed the steps out of the dungeon an hour later, Salem's mind was racing and his spirits were high. He'd gained 20 points for Slytherin in his very first week — Snape really does love him. **_( Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone- pgs 131-139 )_**

They soon had reached the Slytherin Common room, climbing in through the portrait after Salem had spoken the password. After setting their stuff down they all plopped down on the couch.

Salem pulled the letter from his dad out of his bag, he had gotten a letter knife from another Slytherin to open the wax seal on the letter.

_Dear son,_

_I must say the manor is rather lonely without you. Nagini misses both you and Ebony dearly. But back to business, I want you to find the Philosopher's Stone and bring it to me by the end of the year. I'm sure Dumbledore is hiding it there, It must be hidden. Find it._

_Burn this note as soon as you finish reading._

_Your Father_

Salem got up from the couch and threw the letter in the fire before sitting back down and starting on his homework.  
  



	5. «-(¯'v'¯)-« cнαρтεя 4 »-(¯'v'¯)-»

# «-(¯'v'¯)-« gяιиgσттѕ вяєαк-ιи »-(¯'v'¯)-»

 **____________________** _**  
**_

_**Words**_ \- Parseltongue

Words- Storyline

 **Words** \- Spells

**____________________**

The Great Hall was bursting with activity as all the students of Hogwarts filed in, sitting at their respective table. One student, in particular, sat at the Slytherin table, eating his bacon peacefully. Although that peace will not last long. This student's name was Salem Riddle, son of Lord Voldemort and Lady Elvira. 

Owls fly in from open windows, swooping down to their respective owner to deliver mail. Salem's snow owl dropped the _Daily Prophet_ into Salem's lap. He picks it up flips through the pages, soon finding an intriguing article. 

**GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST**

Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on the 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards and witches unknown.

Gringotts goblins insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied that same day.

"But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your nose out if you know whats good for you." said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon.

Salem looks over at Draco, who sat on his right. 

"Say, Draco. We were at Diagon Alley on the 31 of July, correct?" 

" Yeah. What about it?" 

" Nothing. " 

**____________________**

Salem had never believed he would meet someone he would utterly hate, but that was before he met Violet Potter. Still, first-year Slytherins only had Potions with Gryffindors, so they wouldn't have to put up with Potter much. Or at least, they didn't until they spotted a notice pinned up in the Slytherin common room that made them all groan. Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday — and Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning together.

" Typical," Said Draco darkly. " That they would place Gryffindor and Slytherin together. It's almost like they beg for a fight to break out, but I would like to see that Weasel make a fool of himself on a broomstick. "

Salem grunts in agreement. They were making their way to the flat lawn opposite of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.

Most Slytherins were already there. Draco and Salem pick the best broom that was on the floor. They both have heard the older students complain about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you fly too high, or always flew slightly to the left. 

Soon the Gryffindors show up. Salem could see the 'Golden Trio' and he glared at them. 

Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" She barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up." 

Salem glanced down at his broom. It looked new. 

" Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!'"

"UP!" everyone shouted.

Salem's broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. Draco's broom had also jumped straight into his hand, so did Potter's. Hermione Granger's had simply rolled over on the ground, and Neville's hadn't moved at all. Idiots. A broom, like horses, can tell when you are afraid. Thought Salem; there was a quiver in Neville's voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their broom without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground hard." Said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet and then come straight back down leaning forward slightly. On my whistle — three — two —"

But Millicent, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

"Come back here, girl!" she shouted, but Millicent was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle — twelve feet — twenty feet. Salem saw her scared white face look down at the ground falling, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and — WHAM — a thud and a nasty crack and Millicent lay face down on the grass in a heap. Her broom was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight. 

Madam Hooch was bending over Millicent, her face as white as her's.

" Broken wrist," Salem heard her mutter. " Come on, girl — it's alright, up you get."

She turned to the rest of the class. 

"None of you are to move while I take this girl to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."

Millicent, her face tear-streaked, clutching her wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around her. 

No sooner were they out of earshot than Weasley burst into laughter. 

"Did you see her face, the great lump?"

The other Gryffindors joined in. 

" Shut up, Weasel. " snapped Blaise.

" Ooh, sticking up for Bulstrode? " Said Seamus Finnigan. " Never thought you'd like fat little babies, Zabini."

" Look!" said Wesley, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. " It's that stupid thing Bulstrode's gram sent her." 

The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up. 

" Give that here, Weasley." said Salem quietly, his voice louder than a whisper. Everyone stopped talking to watch. 

Weasley smiled nastily.

"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Bulstrode to find — how about — up a tree?"

"Give it _here_!" Salem yelled, but Weasley had leapt onto his broomstick and taken off. 

_(Section deleted)_

" Come and get it, Riddle!" 

Salem grabbed his broom. He was afraid that he had gotten a little rusty, 

_(Section deleted)_

Draco was shouting at Salem at how this was a Gryffindor move, and how he didn't want Salem to go after the Remembrall. 

Salem ignored him. Blood was pounding in his ears. He mounted his broom and kicked hard against the ground and up, up he soared; air rushed through his hair, his robes whipped out behind him. He pulled his broomstick up a little to take it even higher, and he heard screams and gasps of girls back on the ground and an admiring whoop from Draco.

He turned his broomstick sharply to face Weasley in midair. Weasley looked stunned. 

"Give it here," Salem called. "or I'll knock you off that broom!"

" Oh, yeah?" said Weasley, trying to sneer, but looking worried. Salem leaned forward and grasped the broom tightly in both hands, and it shot towards Weasley like a javelin. Weasley only just got out of the way in time; Salem made a sharp about-face and held the broom steady. A few people clapped below. 

" No one here to save your sorry neck, Weasel. " Salem sneered. 

Weasley looked around, and realized that Salem was right; " Catch it if you can, then!" he shouted, and he threw the glass ball high into the air and streaked back toward the ground. 

Salem saw, as though in slow motion, the ball rises up in the air and then start to fall. He leaned forward and pointed his broom handle down — next second he was gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the ball — wind screamed in his ears, mingled with the screams of people watching — he stretched out his hand — a foot from the ground he caught it, just in time to pull his broom straight, and he toppled gently onto the grass with the Remembrall clutched safely in his fist.

"SALEM RIDDLE!" 

Professor McGonagall was running toward them. He got to his feet.

" _Never_ — in all my time at Hogwarts — "

Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously. " — how _dare_ you — might have broken your neck —"

" It wasn't his fault, Professor — "

" Be quiet, Miss Greengrass — "

" But Weasley — "

" That's _enough,_ Mr. Malfoy. Riddle follow me, now. " _( Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone- pgs 141- 150)_

The duo traveled to the dungeons of Hogwarts, soon getting to Snape's chambers. McGonagall knocks on the door before hearing Snape's voice call out for them to come in. 

" Afternoon, Severus, I think I found Flint's new seeker." 

" You did great Minny, I must applaud you on your performance." Salem praises.

" Thank you, my young lord. I try to do my best. " 

**____________________**


	6. «-(¯'v'¯)-« cнαρтεя 5 »-(¯'v'¯)-»

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No worries, this is not an April Fools

# «-(¯'v'¯)-« тнε ωιzαя∂'s ∂υεℓ αη∂ тнε тняεε-нεα∂ε∂ ∂σg »-(¯'v'¯)-»

**____________________**

_**Words**_ \- Parseltongue

Words- Storyline

 **Words** \- Spells

** ____________________ **

Salem was appointed to be Slytherin's new seeker, although the first year are not permitted to play Quidditch. When his little gang of friends had reached the Great Hall, groups had accumulated around them. Salem pushes by them, ignoring them. He claimed his seat at the Slytherin Table, breakfast appearing in front of him. The peace was ruined when a particular red-headed male stomped over to him. 

" I must say, Weasley, there's no pleasure in seeing you. " 

Ronald ignored him, " How are you still here? You should've been expelled by now! None the least your Slytherin seeker! What a bunch of rubbish! I've never even heard of the Riddle's! Must be a mudblood. " 

" You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you. " said Salem coldly. There was nothing little about Finnigan and Thomas but as the High Table was full of teachers, neither of them could do more than crack their knuckles and scowl. 

" I'd take you any time on my own, " said Weasley. " Tonight, if you want. Wizard's Duel. Wands only — no contact. What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, mudblood?"

Salem glares at Ron. 

" Of course he has," said Draco. " I'm his second, who's your's?"

" Finnigan," he said. " Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked. _( Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone 153- 153)_

Once Weasley had left, Daphne looks at Draco and Salem. " Please tell me you aren't going to go through with it. " 

" Of course we're not, " said Salem, continuing to eat his breakfast. " I'll tell Severus later. "

**____________________**

Laterthat day, our little group of Slytherins was in the common rooms, writing essays. Salem excused himself and Draco to go to Severus' chambers. When they had reached the chamber they didn't bother to knock, just going right in, knowing Severus would be fine with it. 

Severus was sitting on his couch writing in a leather-bound journal that Salem had gotten him when he was nine. He was alarmed through magic when Salem and Draco had entered and tensed, on high alert, but as soon as he recognized their magical signature he relaxed, having them join him on the couch. 

" Is there a problem?" 

" Weasley challenged me to a wizard's duel. Tonight, at midnight. By the trophy room. " Salem looks at expecting him to get the hint. 

" Oh, yes. 20 points for bringing this to my attention, Salem."

Salem just smirks. 

**____________________**

Salem, Draco, and Blaise were just walking around innocently before Blaise — although he wouldn't admit it — got them lost. They had heard Filch and his cat, Mrs. Norris coming around the corner. 

Salem took it upon himself, opened a door and shoved everyone inside. 

" He thinks this door is locked," Salem whispered. " I think we'll be okay — get _off_ , Blaise! " For Blaise had been tugging on the sleeve of Salem's robe for the last minute. " _What?_ "

Salem turned around — and saw, quite clearly, what. For a moment, he was sure he'd walk into a nightmare — this was too much, on top of everything that had happened so far. 

They weren't in a room, as he had supposed. They were in a corridor. The forbidden corridor on the third floor. And now they knew why it was forbidden.

They were looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog. a dog that filled the whole space between ceiling and floor. It had three heads. Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes, three noses, twitching and quivering in their direction; drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellow fangs. It was standing quite still, all six eyes staring at them, and Salem knew that the only reason they weren't dead was that their sudden appearance had taken it by surprise, but it was quickly getting over that, there was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant.

Salem groped for the doorknob — between Filch and death, he rather take Flich.

They fell backward — Salem slammed the door shut and they ran, almost flew, back down the corridor. Flich must have hurried off to look for them somewhere else, because they didn't see him anywhere, but they hardly cared —all they wanted to do was put as much space as possible between them and that monster. They didn't stop running until they reached the portrait of the serpent.

" Where on earth have you all been?" Daphne asked, looking at their robes hanging off their shoulders and their flushed, sweaty faces.

_( Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone pgs 160-161)_

**____________________** _  
_


	7. «-(¯'v'¯)-« cнαρтεя 6 »-(¯'v'¯)-»

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotta love late night posting

# «-(¯'v'¯)-« нαℓℓσωεεη ηιgнт »-(¯'v'¯)-»

____________________

**_Words-_** Parseltongue

Words- Storyline

 **Words-** Spells

____________________

Draco couldn't believe his eyes when he saw Weasley and Finnigan were still at Hogwarts the next day, looking tired but perfectly cheerful. Indeed, by the next morning, Salem and Draco thought that meeting the three-headed dog had been a horrid adventure, and they weren't quite keen on having another one. But knowing Salem's luck, and his Father's quest for him, they were likely to have another little adventure at another time. Salem had filled Draco in about the package that seemed to have been moved from Gringotts to Hogwarts, and they spent a lot of time wondering what could possibly need such heavy protection. 

" It's either very valuable or really dangerous, " said Draco.

" Or both, " said Salem.

But as they knew for sure about the mysterious object was that it was about two inches long, they didn't have much chance of guessing what it was without further clues. 

Blaise did not show the slightest interest in what lay underneath the dog and the trapdoor. All Blaise cared about was never going near that dog again.

_(Section Deleted)_

As the owls flooded into the Great Hall, as usual, everyone's attention was caught at once by a long, thin package carried by six large screech owls. Salem was just as interested as everyone else to see what was in this large parcel, and was amazed when the owls soared down and dropped it right in front of him, knocking his bacon to the floor. They had hardly fluttered out of the way when another owl had dropped a letter on top of the parcel. 

Salem had ripped open the letter first, which was lucky, because it said:   
  
DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE .

It contains your Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don't want everyone knowing you've got a broomstick or they'll all want one. Marcus Flint will meet you on the Quidditch fields at seven o'clock for your first training session. 

Salem had difficulty hiding his glee as he handed the note to Draco and Blaise to read.

" A Nimbus Two Thousand!" Blaise moaned anxiously. " I've never even _touched_ one." 

They left the hall quickly, wanting to unwrap the broomstick in private before their first class, but halfway across the entrance hall they found the downstairs barred by Finnigan, and Thomas. Weasley had grabbed the parcel from Salem and felt it.

" That's a broomstick," he said, throwing it back to Salem with a mixture of jealousy and spite on his face. " You'll be in it for this time, Riddle, first years aren't allowed them." 

Blaise couldn't resist. 

"It's not any old broomstick," he said, "it's a Nimbus Two Thousand. What did you say you've got at home, Weasley, a Comet Two Sixty?" Blaise grinned at Salem. "Comets look flashy, but they're not in the same league as the Nimbus. "

(Deleted Line) 

Before Weasley could answer, Professor Flitwick appeared at Draco's elbow.  
  
"Not arguing, I hope, boys?" he squeaked.

"Riddle's been sent a broomstick, Professor," said Weasley quickly.

"Yes, yes, that's right," said Professor Flitwick, beaming at Salem. "Professor Snape told me all about the special circumstances, Riddle. And what model is it?"

"A Nimbus Two Thousand, it is," said Salem, fighting not to laugh at the look of horror on Weasley's face. "And it's really thanks to Weasley here that I've got it," he added.

Salem, Draco and Blaise headed downstairs, smothering their laughter at Weasley's obvious rage and confusion.

"Well, it's true," Salem chortled as they reached the bottom of the marble staircase, "If he hadn't stolen Millicent's Remembrall I wouldn't be on the team. . . "  


"So I suppose you think that's a reward for breaking rules?" came an angry voice from just behind them.  Daphne was stomping  down the stairs, looking disapprovingly at the package in  Salem 's hand.  


"I thought you weren't speaking to us?" said Salem.

"Yes, don't stop now," said Draco, "it's doing us so much good. "

Daphne marched away with her nose in the air.

Salem had a lot of trouble keeping his mind on his lessons that day. It kept wandering up to the dormitory where his new broomstick was lying under his bed, or straying off to the Quidditch field where he'd be learning to play that night. He bolted his dinner that evening without noticing what he was eating, and then rushed upstairs with Ron to unwrap the Nimbus Two Thousand at last.  


"Wow," Draco sighed, as the broomstick rolled onto Harry's bedspread.

It looked wonderful. Sleek and shiny, with a mahogany handle, it had a long tail of neat, straight twigs and Nimbus Two Thousand written in gold near the top.

  
As seven o'clock drew nearer, Salem left the castle and set off in the dusk toward the Quidditch field. Held never been inside the stadium before. Hundreds of seats were raised in stands around the field so that the spectators were high enough to see what was going on. At either end of the field were three golden poles with hoops on the end. They reminded Salem of the little plastic sticks Muggle children blew bubbles through, except that they were fifty feet high.

  
Too eager to fly again to wait for Flint, Salem mounted his broomstick and kicked off from the ground. What a feeling — he swooped in and out of the goal posts and then sped up and down the field. The Nimbus Two Thousand turned wherever he wanted at his lightest touch.

"Hey, Riddle, come down!"

Marcus Flint had arrived. He was carrying a large wooden crate under his arm. Salem landed next to him.

"Very nice," said Flint, his eyes glinting. "I see what Snape meant. . . you really are a natural. I'm just going to teach you the rules this evening, then you'll be joining team practice three times a week. "

**____________________**

"We won't practice with the Snitch yet," said Flint, carefully shutting it back inside the crate, "it's too dark, we might lose it. Let's try you out with a few of these. "

He pulled a bag of ordinary golf balls out of his pocket and a few minutes later, he and Salem were up in the air, Flint throwing the golf balls as hard as he could in every direction for Salem to catch.

Salem didn't miss a single one, and Flint was delighted. After half an hour, night had really fallen and they couldn't carry on.

"That Quidditch Cup'll have our name on it this year," said Flint happily as they trudged back up to the castle. "I wouldn't be surprised if you turn out better than Charlie Weasley, and he could have played for England if he hadn't gone off chasing dragons. "

Perhaps it was because he was now so busy, what with Quidditch practice three evenings a week on top of all his homework, but Salem could hardly believe it when he realized that he'd already been at Hogwarts two months. The castle felt more like home than Riddle Manor had. His lessons, too, were becoming more and more interesting now that they had mastered (although he already had, with his Father's private teachings when he was young) the basics.

**____________________**

On Halloween morning they woke to the delicious smell of baking pumpkin wafting through the corridors. Even better, Professor Flitwick announced in Charms that he thought they were ready to start making objects fly, something they had all been dying to try since they'd seen him make Neville's toad zoom around the classroom. Professor Flitwick put the class into pairs to practice. Salem's partner was Blaise (which was a relief, because Millicent had been trying to catch his eye). Draco, however, was to be working with Daphne. It was hard to tell whether Draco or Daphne was angrier about this. She hadn't spoken to either of them since the day Salem's broomstick had arrived.

"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing!" squeaked Professor Flitwick, perched on top of his pile of books as usual. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too -- never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest. "

It was very difficult (for most). They all swished and flicked, but the feather they were supposed to be sending skyward just lay on the desktop. Finnigan got so impatient that he prodded it with his wand and set fire to it -- Harry had to put it out with his hat.

Weasley, at the next table, wasn't having much more luck.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" he shouted, waving his long arms like a windmill.

"You're saying it wrong," Salem heard Granger snap. "It's Wing- gar -dium Levi- o -sa, make the 'gar' nice and long. "

"You do it, then, if you're so clever," Weasley snarled.

Before Granger had the chance, Salem had done it.

Salem rolled up the sleeves of his gown, flicked his wand, and said, "Wingardium Leviosa!"

His and Blaise's feather rose off the desk and hovered about four feet above their heads.

"Oh, well done!" cried Professor Flitwick, clapping. "Everyone see here, Mr. Riddle's done it!"

Weasley was in a very bad mood by the end of the class.

_(Section Deleted)_

**____________________** _  
_

A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins stutter. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet.  
  
Harry was just helping himself to a baked potato when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, "Troll -- in the dungeons -- thought you ought to know. "  
  
He then sank to the floor in a dead faint.  
  
There was an uproar. It took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Professor Dumbledore's wand to bring silence.  
  
"Prefects," he rumbled, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

_(Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone 163-177)_

**__________________**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not really an important chapter, it's just here to fill in gaps


	8. «-(¯'v'¯)-« cнαρтεя 7 »-(¯'v'¯)-»

# «-(¯'v'¯)-« qυι∂∂ιтcн αη∂ тнε мιяяσя σғ εяιsε∂ »-(¯'v'¯)-»

____________________

 ** _Words-_** Parseltongue

Words- Storyline

 **Words-** Spells

**____________________**

As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy gray and the lake like chilled steel. Every morning the ground was covered in frost. Rubeus Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous beaverskin boots.  
  
The Quidditch season had begun. On Saturday, Salem would be playing in his first match after weeks of training: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. If Slytherin won, they would move up into second place in the house championship.

Hardly anyone had seen Salem play because Flint had decided that, as their secret weapon, Salem should be kept, well, secret. But the news that he was playing Seeker had leaked out somehow, and Salem didn't know which was worse -- people telling him he'd be brilliant or people telling him they'd be running around underneath him holding a mattress.  
  
Salem knew that there were seven hundred ways of committing a Quidditch foul and that all of them had happened during a World Cup match in 1473; that Seekers were usually the smallest and fastest players, and that most serious Quidditch accidents seemed to happen to them; that although people rarely died playing Quidditch, referees had been known to vanish and turn up months later in the Sahara Desert.

The day before Harry's first Quidditch match the three of them, Salem, Draco, and Blaise, were out in the freezing courtyard during break, and she had conjured them up a bright blue fire that could be carried around in a jam jar. They were standing with their backs to it, getting warm, when Quirrell crossed the yard. Salem noticed at once that Quirrell was limping.

_( Section Deleted)_

The Slytherin common room was very noisy that evening. Salem, Draco, and Blaise sat together next to a window. Salem was checking Draco and Blaise's Charms homework for them. He would never let them copy ("How will you learn?"), but by asking him to read it through, they got the right answers anyway.

Salem had to go to the Library to get one thing that Madam Pince, as she promised him a special treat for being a good student. He happened to walk by the teacher's lounge while on his way there. And perhaps he heard something he shouldn't have.. 

Quirrell and Filch were inside, alone. Quirrell was holding his robes above his knees. One of his legs was bloody and mangled. Filch was handing Quirrell bandages.  
  
"Blasted thing," Quirrell was saying. "How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?"

Salem's elf ears had perked up but he decides to leave it alone, heading to the library before going back to the Slytherin common room.

"What's the matter?" Draco asked Salem as he joined them once again.

  
In a low whisper, Salem told them what he'd heard.  
  
"You know what this means?" he finished breathlessly. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog at Halloween. That's where he was going when we saw him — he's after whatever it's guarding. And I'd bet my broomstick he let that troll in, to make a diversion."

Blaise's eyes were wide.  
  
"I'm with Salem. I wouldn't put anything past Quirrell. But what's he after? What's that dog guarding?" said Draco.

Salem went to bed with his head buzzing with the same question. Crabbe was snoring loudly, but Salem couldn't sleep. He tried to empty his mind — he needed to sleep, he had to, he had his first Quidditch match in a few hours.

**____________________**

  
The next morning dawned very bright and cold. The Great Hall was full of the delicious smell of fried sausages and the cheerful chatter of everyone looking forward to a good Quidditch match.

"You've got to eat some breakfast. "  
  
"I don't want anything. "  
  
"Just a bit of toast," wheedled Blaise.  
  
"I'm not hungry. "  
  
Salem felt terrible. In an hour's time he'd be walking onto the field.  
  
"Salem, you need your strength," said Adrian Pucey, a fifth year. "Seekers are always the ones who get clobbered by the other team. "  
  
"Thanks, Adrian," said Salem, watching Adrian pile ketchup on his sausages.

By eleven o'clock the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. Many students had binoculars. The seats might be raised high in the air, but it was still difficult to see what was going on sometimes.  
  
Draco and Blaise joined Pansy, Daphne, Crabbe, and Goyle the West Ham fan up in the top row. As a surprise for Salam, they had painted a large banner. It said Riddle for President, and Daphne, who was good at drawing, had done a large Slytherin snake underneath.   
  
Meanwhile, in the locker room, Salem and the rest of the team were changing into their green Quidditch robes (Gryffindor would be playing in scarlett). 

Flint cleared his throat for silence.

  
"Okay, men," he said. "This is the best team Slytherin's had in years. We're going to win. I know it. "

He glared at them all as if to say, "Or else. "

"Right. It's time. Good luck, all of you. "

Salem followed Howell Owler, and Fletcher Grace out of the locker room and, hoping his knees weren't going to give way, walked onto the field to loud cheers.

Madam Hooch was refereeing. She stood in the middle of the field waiting for the two teams, her broom in her hand.  
  
"Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you," she said, once they were all gathered around her. Salem noticed that she seemed to be speaking particularly to Wood. Salem thought Wood looked as if he had some troll blood in him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the fluttering banner high above, flashing Riddle for President over the crowd. His heart skipped. He felt braver.

"Mount your brooms, please. "  
  
Salem clambered onto his Nimbus Two Thousand.  
  
Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle.

Fifteen brooms rose up, high, high into the air. They were off.  
  
"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor -- what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too--"  
  
"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor. "  
  


Lee Jordan, was doing the commentary for the match, closely watched by Professor McGonagall.

"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve -- back to Johnson and -- no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes -- Flint flying like an eagle up there — he's going to sc — no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle — that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and — OUCH — that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger -- Quaffle taken by the Slytherins — that's Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger — sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which -- nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes — she's really flying — dodges a speeding Bludger —the goal posts are ahead -- come on, now, Angelina -- Keeper Bletchley dives — SLYTHERIN SCORES!"

Slytherins cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans from the Gryffindors.

Salem was gliding over the game, squinting about for some sign of the Snitch. This was part of his and Flint's game plan.  
  
"Keep out of the way until you catch sight of the Snitch," Flint had said. "We don't want you attacked before you have to be. "

When Marcus had scored, Salem had done a couple of loop-the-loops to let off his feelings. Now he was back to staring around for the Snitch. Once he caught sight of a flash of gold, but it was just a reflection from one of the Weasleys' wristwatches, and once a Bludger decided to come pelting his way, more like a cannonball than anything, but Harry dodged it and Fletcher Grace came chasing after it. 

"All right there, Salem?" he had time to yell, as he beat the Bludger furiously toward Oliver Wood. 

"Slytherin in possession," Lee Jordan was saying, "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the — wait a moment — was that the Snitch?"

A murmur ran through the crowd as Adrian Pucey dropped the Quaffle, too busy looking over his shoulder at the flash of gold that had passed his left ear.  
  
Salem saw it. In a great rush of excitement he dived downward after the streak of gold. Gryffindor Seeker Delta Pugs had seen it, too. Neck and neck they hurtled toward the Snitch -- all the Chasers seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to be doing as they hung in midair to watch.

Salem was faster than Pugs — he could see the little round ball, wings fluttering, darting up ahead — he put on an extra spurt of speed --  
  
WHAM! A roar of rage echoed from the Slytherin below — Oliver Wood had blocked Salem on purpose, and Salem's broom spun off course, Salem holding on for dear life.  
  
"Foul!" screamed the Slytherins.

Madam Hooch spoke angrily to Wood and then ordered a free shot at the goal posts for Slytherin. But in all the confusion, of course, the Golden Snitch had disappeared from sight again.

"They got to change the rules. Wood could've knocked Salem out of the air. " said Draco.

Lee Jordan was finding it difficult not to take sides.  
  
"So -- after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating--"  
  
"Jordan!" growled Professor McGonagall.

"I mean, after that open and revolting foul. . . "  
  
"Jordan, I'm warning you--"  
  
"All right, all right. Wood nearly kills the Slytherin Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Slytherin taken by Spinner, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Slytherin still in possession. "

It was as Salem dodged another Bludger, which went spinning dangerously past his head, that it happened. His broom gave a sudden, frightening lurch. For a split second, he thought he was going to fall. He gripped the broom tightly with both his hands and knees. He'd never felt anything like that.

It happened again. It was as though the broom was trying to buck him off. But Nimbus Two Thousands did not suddenly decide to buck their riders off. Salem tried to turn back toward the Slytherin goal-posts -- he had half a mind to ask Flint to call time-out -- and then he realized that his broom was completely out of his control. He couldn't turn it. He couldn't direct it at all. It was zigzagging through the air, and every now and then making violent swishing movements that almost unseated him.  
  
Lee was still commentating.  
  
"Slytherin in possession -- Flint with the Quaffle -- passes Spinnet -- passes Bell -- hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it broke his nose -- only joking, Professor -- Slytherins score -- A no. . . "

The Slytherins were cheering. No one seemed to have noticed that Salem's broom was behaving strangely. It was carrying him slowly higher, away from the game, jerking and twitching as it went.

"Dunno what Salem thinks he's doing," Draco mumbled. He stared through his binoculars. "If I didn't know better, I'd say he'd lost control of his broom. . . but he can't have. . . "  
  
Suddenly, people were pointing up at Salem all over the stands. His broom had started to roll over and over, with him only just managing to hold on. Then the whole crowd gasped. Salem's broom had given a wild jerk and Harry swung off it. He was now dangling from it, holding on with only one hand.  
  
"Did something happen to it when Wood blocked him?" Blaise whispered.

"Can't have," Draco said, his voice shaking. "Can't nothing interfere with a broomstick except powerful Dark magic -- no kid could do that to a Nimbus Two Thousand. "  
  
At these words, Blaise seized Draco's binoculars, but instead of looking up at Salem, he started looking frantically at the crowd.  
  
"What are you doing?" moaned Draco, gray-faced.

"I knew it," Blaise gasped, "Quirrell — look. "

Draco grabbed the binoculars. Quirrell was in the middle of the stands opposite them. He had his eyes fixed on Salem and was muttering nonstop under his breath.

"He's doing something — jinxing the broom," said Draco. 

"What should we do?" asked Pansy.

"Leave it to me. " 

Before Blaise could say another word, Draco had disappeared. Blaise turned the binoculars back on Salem. His broom was vibrating so hard, it was almost impossible for him to hang on much longer. The whole crowd was on its feet, watching, terrified, as the Beaters flew up to try and pull Salem safely onto one of their brooms, but it was no good - every time they got near him, the broom would jump higher still. They dropped lower and circled beneath him, obviously hoping to catch him if he fell. Oliver Wood seized the Quaffle and scored five times without anyone noticing.

"Come on, Draco," Blaise muttered desperately.  
  
Draco had fought his way across to the stand where Quirrell stood, and was now racing along the row behind him; he didn't even stop to say sorry as she knocked Professor Flitwick headfirst into the row in front. Reaching Quirrell, he crouched down, pulled out his wand, and whispered a few, well-chosen words. Bright blue flames shot from his wand onto the hem of Quirrell's robes.

It took perhaps thirty seconds for Quirrell to realize that he was on fire. A sudden yelp told him he had done his job. Scooping the fire off him into a little jar in his pocket, he scrambled back along the row — Quirrell would never know what had happened.

It was enough. Up in the air, Salem was suddenly able to clamber back on to his broom.

"Daphne, you can look!" Blaise said. Daphne had been sobbing into Blaise's robe for the last five minutes.  
  
Salem was speeding toward the ground when the crowd saw him clap his hand to his mouth as though he was about to be sick — he hit the field on all fours — coughed — and something gold fell into his hand.  
  
"I've got the Snitch!" he shouted, waving it above his head, and the game ended in complete confusion.  
  
"He didn't catch it, he nearly swallowed it," Wood was still howling twenty minutes later, but it made no difference -- Harry hadn't broken any rules and Lee Jordan wasn't happily shouting the results — Slytherin had won by one hundred and seventy points to sixty. Salem heard none of this, though. He was being made a cup of strong tea back in Snape's chamber, with Draco and Blaise.

"It was Quirrell." Draco was explaining, "Blaise and I saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off you. "  
  
"Rubbish," said Severus, who hadn't heard a word of what had gone on next to him in the stands. "Why would Quirrell do something like that?"

Salem, Draco, and Blaise looked at one another, wondering what to tell him. Salem decided on the truth.  
  
"I found out something about him," he told Severus. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween. It bit him. We think he was trying to steal whatever it's guarding. "  
  
Severus dropped the teapot.

"How do you know about Fluffy?" he said.  
  
"Fluffy ?"

"Yes — he's Hagrid's — bought him off a Greek chappie he met in the pub last year — He lent him to Dumbledore to guard the—"

"Yes?" said Salem eagerly.

" I'm sorry, Salem. But your Father ordered me not to tell you. You must find out yourself. But I can tell you that it's between Professor Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel."

" Nicolas Flamel...?" 

**____________________**

Christmas was coming. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban. The few owls that managed to battle their way through the stormy sky to deliver mail had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could fly off again. **_  
_**

No one could wait for the holidays to start. While the Slytherin common room and the Great Hall had roaring fires, the drafty corridors had become icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms. Worst of all were Professor Snape's classes down in the dungeons, where their breath rose in a mist before them and they kept as close as possible to their hot cauldrons.

" I do feel so sorry," said Draco , one Potions class, "for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home. "

**____________________**

One foggy midnight, Salem had decided to contact his Father through his mirror. Voldemort had answered right away. His pale face, high cheekbones, and red eyes appeared in the mirror. 

"Aha, Salem. The manor has been quite lonely without you here. So I must ask if you plan to come home for Yule?" 

" Actually, Father, that is exactly why I called you. To ask if I am wanted at the Manor. " 

" Of course you are wanted, at the Manor, Salem. Nagini misses you dearly. "

" Do you miss me, Father?" He grins, trying to tease his father. 

" Oh shut up, don't you have homework or something?" Voldemort scowls. 

" Not really. " 

" What about that mission I gave you?" 

" Right. I planned on going to the school library to research, and perhaps when I go back to the Manor I could continue. " 

" Good, go do that then. " Voldemort's face disappears. 

Salem groans, putting away the mirror. Before heading off 

The library was pitch-black and very eerie. Salem lit a lamp to see his way along the rows of books. The lamp looked as if it was floating along in midair, and even though Salem could feel his arm supporting it, the sight gave him the creeps.

Where should he start? He stopped, and thought. And then it came to him. The Restricted Section in the library. He'd be able to read as long as he liked, as long as it took to find out who Flamel was. He set off.

They didn't tell him much. Their peeling, faded gold letters spelled words in languages Salem couldn't understand. Some had no title at all. One book had a dark stain on it that looked horribly like blood. The hairs on the back of Salem's neck prickled. Maybe he was imagining it, maybe not, but he thought a faint whispering was coming from the books, as though they knew someone was there who shouldn't be.

He had to start somewhere. Setting the lamp down carefully on the floor, he looked along the bottom shelf for an interesting looking book. A large black and silver volume caught his eye. He pulled it out with difficulty, because it was very heavy, and, balancing it on his knee, let it fall open.

A piercing, bloodcurdling shriek split the silence -- the book was screaming! Salem snapped it shut, but the shriek went on and on, one high, unbroken, earsplitting note. He stumbled backward and knocked over his lamp, which went out at once. Panicking, he heard footsteps coming down the corridor outside -- stuffing the shrieking book back on the shelf, he ran for it. He passed Filch in the doorway; Filch's pale, wild eyes looked straight through him, and Salem slipped under Filch's outstretched arm and streaked off up the corridor, the book's shrieks still ringing in his ears.  
  
He came to a sudden halt in front of a tall suit of armor. He had been so busy getting away from the library, he hadn't paid attention to where he was going. Perhaps because it was dark, he didn't recognize where he was at all. There was a suit of armor near the kitchens, he knew, but he must be five floors above there.  
  
"You asked me to come directly to you, Professor, if anyone was wandering around at night, and somebody's been in the library Restricted Section. "  
  
Salem felt the blood drain out of his face. Wherever he was, Filch must know a shortcut, because his soft, greasy voice was getting nearer, and to his horror, it was Quirrell who replied, "The Restricted Section? Well, they can't be far, we'll catch them. "

Salem stood rooted to the spot as Filch and Quirrell came around the corner ahead. They couldn't see him, of course, but it was a narrow corridor and if they came much nearer they'd knock right into him.

He backed away as quietly as he could. A door stood ajar to his left. It was his only hope. He squeezed through it, holding his breath, trying not to move it, and to his relief he managed to get inside the room without their noticing anything. They walked straight past, and Salem leaned against the wall, breathing deeply, listening to their footsteps dying away. That had been close, very close. It was a few seconds before he noticed anything about the room he had hidden in.  
  
It looked like an unused classroom. The dark shapes of desks and chairs were piled against the walls, and there was an upturned wastepaper basket — but propped against the wall facing him was something that didn't look as if it belonged there, something that looked as if someone had just put it there to keep it out of the way.  
  
It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. His panic fading now that there was no sound of Filch and Quirrell, Harry moved nearer to the mirror, wanting to look at himself but see no reflection again. He stepped in front of it.  
  
He had to clap his hands to his mouth to stop himself from screaming. He whirled around. His heart was pounding far more furiously than when the book had screamed — for he had seen not only himself in the mirror, but a whole crowd of people standing right behind him.  
  
But the room was empty. Breathing very fast, he turned slowly back to the mirror.

There he was, reflected in it, white and scared-looking, and there, reflected behind him, were at least ten others. Salem looked over his shoulder -- but still, no one was there. Or were they all invisible, too? Was he in fact in a room full of invisible people and this mirror's trick was that it reflected them, invisible or not?  
  
He looked in the mirror again. An elf-like woman standing right behind his reflection was smiling at him and waving. He reached out a hand and felt the air behind him. If she was really there, he'd touch her, their reflections were so close together, but he felt only air - she and the others existed only in the mirror.

  
She was a very pretty woman. She had bright blond hair and her eyes — _her eyes are just like mine_ , Salem thought, edging a little closer to the glass. Icy blue — exactly the same shape, but then he noticed that she was crying; smiling, but crying at the same time. The man standing next to her was, Tom Riddle. 

Salem was so close to the mirror now that his nose was nearly touching that of his reflection.

  
"Mom?" he whispered. "Dad?"  
  
They just looked at him, smiling. And slowly, Salem looked into the faces of the other people in the mirror, and saw other pairs of blue eyes like his, other noses like his, even a little old man who looked as though he had Salem's knobbly knees — Salem was looking at his family, it was complete once again, for the first time in five years. 

He stared hungrily back at them, his hands pressed flat against the glass as though he was hoping to fall right through it and reach them. He had a powerful kind of ache inside him, half joy, half terrible sadness.

How long he stood there, he didn't know. The reflections did not fade and he looked and looked until a distant noise brought him back to his senses. He couldn't stay here, he had to find his way back to bed. He tore his eyes away from his mother's face, whispered, "I'll come back," and hurried from the room. 

**_( Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone 180- 209)_ **

**____________________**


	9. «-(¯'v'¯)-« cнαρтεя 8 »-(¯'v'¯)-»

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost at the end. There will be a five-chapter side book between the main books.

# «-(¯'v'¯)-« ηιcнσℓαs ғℓαмεℓ αη∂ тнε ғσявι∂∂εη ғσяεsт »-(¯'v'¯)-»

** ____________________ **

**_Words-_** Parseltongue

Words- Storyline

 **Words-** Spells

** ____________________ **

Salem had spent hours upon hours in Riddle Manor's library for Yule break, and he had found nothing. Complaining to Draco the whole train ride back to Hogwarts. Salem had also talked to his Father about the mirror of erised. He had banned him from going back to it. Salem wished he could forget what he'd seen in the mirror as easily, but he couldn't. He started having nightmares. Over and over again he dreamed about his parents killing in a flash of green light, while their voices cackled with laughter.

"You see, your Father was right, that mirror could drive you mad," said Blasie, when Salem told him about these dreams.  
  


Draco took a different view of things. He was torn between horror at the idea of Salem being out of bed ("If Filch had caught you!"), and disappointment that he hadn't at least found out who Nicolas Flamel was.

They had almost given up hope of ever finding Flamel in a library book, even though Salem was still sure he'd read the name somewhere. Once term had started, they were back to skimming through books for ten minutes during their breaks. Salem had even less time than the other two, because Quidditch practice had started again.  
  


Flint was working the team harder than ever. Even the endless rain that had replaced the snow couldn't dampen his spirits. Pucey had complained that Flint was becoming a fanatic, but Salem was on Flint's side. If they won their next match, against Hufflepuff, they would win the house championship again for the eighth. Quite apart from wanting to win, Salem found that he had fewer nightmares when he was tired out after training.

Then, during one particularly wet and muddy practice session, Flint gave the team a bit of bad news. He'd just gotten very angry with Howelll Owler and Fletcher Grace, who kept dive-bombing each other and pretending to fall off their brooms.

"Will you stop messing around!" he yelled. "That's exactly the sort of thing that'll lose us the match! "

" The only good thing is that Sevy is refereeing." Salem had said.

Fletcher Grace really did fall off his broom at these words.

"Professor Snape's refereeing?" he spluttered through a mouthful of mud. "When's he ever refereed a Quidditch match? "

The rest of the team landed next to Fletcher to cheer, too.

**____________________**

The rest of the team hung back to talk to one another as usual at the end of practice, but Salem headed straight back to the Slytherin common room, where he found Draco and Blaise playing chess. 

"Don't talk to me for a moment," said Draco when Salem sat down next to him, "I need to concen —" He caught sight of Salem's face.

"What's the matter with you? You look terrible. "

" Just feel a bit under the weather. "

"Don't play," said Blaise at once.

"Pretend to break your leg," Draco suggested.

"Really break your leg," said Blaise.

"I can't," said Salem. "There isn't a reserve Seeker. If I back out, Slytherin can't play at all. "

**____________________**

I've found him!" Salem whispered. "I've found Flamel! I told you I'd read the name somewhere before, I read it on the train coming here — listen to this: 'Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel'!"

Draco jumped to his feet. He hadn't looked so excited ever since his Father had told him where he was going for the break.

"Stay there!" Draco said, and he sprinted up the stairs to the boys' dormitories. Salem and Blaise barely had time to exchange mystified looks before she was dashing back, an enormous old book in his arms.

"I never thought to look in here!" he whispered excitedly. "I got this out of the library weeks ago for a bit of light reading. "

"Light ?" said Blasie, but Draco told him to be quiet until he'd looked something up, and started flicking frantically through the pages, muttering to himself.

At last he found what he was looking for.

"I knew it! I knew it!"

"Are we allowed to speak yet?" said Blasie grumpily. Draco ignored him.

"Nicolas Flamel," he whispered dramatically, "is the only known maker of the Sorcerer's Stone!"

This didn't have quite the effect he'd expected.

"The what?" said Blaise.

"Oh, honestly, don't you read? Look -- read that, there. "

He pushed the book toward them, and Blaise read:

The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Sorcerer's Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal.

There have been many reports of the Sorcerer's Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicolas Flamel, the noted alchemist and opera lover. Mr. Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle (six hundred and fifty-eight).  
  


"See?" said Draco, when Blaise had finished. "The dog must be guarding Flamel's Sorcerer's Stone! I bet he asked Dumbledore to keep it safe for him, because they're friends and he knew someone was after it, that's why he wanted the Stone moved out of Gringotts!"

"A stone that makes gold and stops you from ever dying!" said Blaise. "No wonder Quirrell's after it! Anyone would want it. "

"And no wonder we couldn't find Flamel in that Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry," said Salem. "He's not exactly recent if he's six hundred and sixty-five, is he?"

The next morning in Defense Against the Dark Arts, while copying down different ways of treating werewolf bites, Salem and Draco were still discussing what they'd do with a Sorcerer's Stone if they had one.

"I'm going to play," he told Blaise and Draco. "I feel better. "

"Just as long as we're not wiping you off the field," said Draco.

**____________________**

As the match drew nearer, however, Salem became more and more nervous, whatever he told Blaise and Draco. The rest of the team wasn't too calm, either. The idea of keeping the house championship was wonderful. Hopefully Severus would help them cheat into it.

Salem didn't know whether he was imagining it or not, but he seemed to keep running into Quirrell wherever he went. At times, he even wondered whether Quirrell was following him, trying to catch him on his own. Defense Against the Dark Arts' lessons were turning into a sort of weekly torture, Quirrell was so horrible to Salem. Could Quirrell possibly know they'd found out about the Sorcerer's Stone? Salem didn't see how he could — yet he sometimes had the horrible feeling that Quirrell could read minds.

Salem knew, when they wished him good luck outside the locker rooms the next afternoon, that Draco and Blaise were wondering whether they'd ever see him alive again. This wasn't what you'd call comforting. Salem hardly heard a word of Flint's pep talk as he pulled on his Quidditch robes and picked up his Nimbus Two Thousand.

Draco and Blaise, meanwhile, had found a place in the stands next to Pansy, who couldn't understand why they looked so grim and worried, or why they had both brought their wands to the match. Little did Salem know that Draco and Blaise had been secretly practicing the Leg-Locker Curse. They were ready to use it on Quirrell if he showed any sign of wanting to hurt Salem.

"Now, don't forget, it's Locomotor Mortis," Draco muttered as Blaise slipped his wand up his sleeve.

"I know," Blaise snapped. "Don't nag. "

Back in the locker room, Flint had taken Salem aside.

"Don't want to pressure you, Riddle, but if we ever need an early capture of the Snitch it's now. "

"The whole school's out there!" said Howell Owler, peering out of the door. "Even — blimey — Dumblefuck's come to watch!"

Salem's heart did a somersault.

"Dumbledore?" he said, dashing to the door to make sure. Howell was right. There was no mistaking that silver beard.  
  


Perhaps that was why Snape was looking so angry as the teams marched onto the field, something that Draco noticed, too.

"I've never seen Severus look so mean," he told Draco. "Look — they're off. Ouch!"

Someone had poked Draco in the back of the head. It was Weasley.

"Oh, sorry, Zabini, didn't see you there. "

Weasley grinned broadly at Finnigan and Dean.

"Wonder how long Riddle's going to stay on his broom this time? Anyone want a bet? What about you, Zabini?"

Draco didn't answer; Snape had just awarded Hufflepuff a penalty because Fletcher Grace had hit a Bludger at him. Draco, who had all his fingers crossed in his lap, was squinting fixedly at Salem, who was circling the game like a hawk, looking for the Snitch.

" You know how I think they choose people for the Slytherin team?" said Weasley loudly a few minutes later, as Snape awarded Hufflepuff another penalty for no reason at all. "It's people they feel sorry for. See, there's Riddle, who's a mudblood, then there's the step-brother's, who've got no money -- you should be on the team, Parkinson, you've got no brains. "

Pansy went bright red but turned in her seat to face Weasley.

"I'm worth twelve of you, Weasley," she sneered.

Weasley, Finnigan, and Dean howled with laughter, but Blasie, still not daring to take his eyes from the game, said, "You tell him, Pansy. "

"Parkinson, if brains were gold you'd be poorer than the step-brothers, and that's saying something. "  
  


Draco's nerves were already stretched to the breaking point with anxiety about Salem.

"I'm warning you, Weasley —one more word—"

" Draco!" said Blaise suddenly, "Salem—"

"What? Where?"

Salem had suddenly gone into a spectacular dive, which drew gasps and cheers from the crowd. Blasie stood up, as Salem streaked toward the ground like a bullet.

"You're in luck, Malfoy, Riddle's obviously spotted some money on the ground!" said Weasley.

Draco snapped. Before Weasley knew what was happening, Draco was on top of him, wrestling him to the ground. Pansy didn't hesitate, clambering over the back of her seat to help.

"Come on, Salem!" Blaise screamed, leaping onto his seat to watch as Salem sped straight at Severus — he didn't even notice Weasley and Draco rolling around under his seat, or the scuffles and yelps coming from the whirl of fists that was Pansy, Finnigan, and Dean.

Up in the air, Severus turned on his broomstick just in time to see something green shoot past him, missing him by inches — the next second, Salem had pulled out of the dive, his arm raised in triumph, the Snitch clasped in his hand.

The stands erupted; it had to be a record, no one could ever remember the Snitch being caught so quickly.

"Draco! Draco! Where are you? The game's over! Salem's won! We've won! Slytherin is in the lead!" shrieked Blaise, dancing up and down on his seat.

Salem jumped off his broom, a foot from the ground. He couldn't believe it. He'd done it — the game was over; it had barely lasted five minutes. As Slytherins came spilling onto the field, he saw Severus land nearby, white-faced and tight-lipped.

**____________________**

Salem left the locker room alone some time later, to take his Nimbus Two Thousand back to the broomshed. He couldn't ever remember feeling happier. He'd really done something to be proud of now— he didn't have to pretend to be a nobody. The evening air had never smelled so sweet. He walked over the damp grass, reliving the last hour in his head, which was a happy blur: Slytherins running to lift him onto their shoulders; Blaise and Draco in the distance, jumping up and down.

Salem had reached the shed. He leaned against the wooden door and looked up at Hogwarts, with its windows glowing red in the setting sun. Slytherins in the lead. He'd done it.

A hooded figure came swiftly down the front steps of the castle. Clearly not wanting to be seen, it walked as fast as possible toward the forbidden forest.Salem's victory faded from his mind as he watched. He recognized the figure's prowling walk. Severus, sneaking into the forest while everyone else was at dinner -- what was going on?

Salem jumped back on his Nimbus Two Thousand and took off. Gliding silently over the castle he saw Severus enter the forest at a run. He followed.

The trees were so thick he couldn't see where Severus had gone. He flew in circles, lower and lower, brushing the top branches of trees until he heard voices. He glided toward them and landed noiselessly in a towering beech tree.

He climbed carefully along one of the branches, holding tight to his broomstick, trying to see through the leaves.

Below, in a shadowy clearing, stood Severus, but he wasn't alone. Quirrell was there, too. Salem couldn't make out the look on his face, but he was stuttering worse than ever. Salem strained to catch what they were saying.

". . . d-don't know why you wanted t-t-to meet here of all p-places, Severus. . . "

"Oh, I thought we'd keep this private," said Severus, his voice icy. "Students aren't supposed to know about the Sorcerer's Stone, after all. "

Salem leaned forward. Quirrell was mumbling something. Severus interrupted him.

"Have you found out how to get past that beast of Hagrid's yet?"

"B-b-but Severus, I--"

"You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell," said Severus, taking a step toward him.

"I-I don't know what you--"  
  


"You know perfectly well what I mean. "

An owl hooted loudly, and Salem nearly fell out of the tree. He steadied himself in time to hear Severus say, " — your little bit of hocus-pocus. I'm waiting. "

"B-but I d-d-don't--"

"Very well," Severus cut in. "We'll have another little chat soon, when you've had time to think things over and decided where your loyalties lie. "

He threw his cloak over his head and strode out of the clearing. It was almost dark now, but Salem could see Quirrell, standing quite still as though he was petrified.

" Salem, where have you been ?" Blasie squeaked.

"We won! You won! We won!" shouted Draco, thumping Salem on the back. "And I gave Weasley a black eye, and Pansy tried to take on Finnigan and Dean single-handed! She's still out cold but Madam Pomfrey says she'll be all right -- talk about showing Gryffindor! I've waiting for you in the common room, we're having a party, Howell and Fletcher stole some cakes and stuff from the kitchens. "

"Never mind that now," said Salem breathlessly. "Let's find an empty room, you wait 'til you hear this. . . "

"So we were somewhat right, it is the Sorcerer's Stone, but Severus's trying to force Quirrell to help him get it. He asked if he knew how to get past Fluffy— and he said something about Quirrell's 'hocus pocus'— I reckon there are other things guarding the stone apart from Fluffy, loads of enchantments, probably, and Quirrell would have done some anti-Dark Arts spell that Snape needs to break through—"

"So you're saying Severus is betraying your Father? " said Blaise in alarm.

" Maybe so.."

**( Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone 215-227)**   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**____________________**   
  
  
  


Salem was mad at both Draco and Blaise, they had gotten them all detention by sneaking into the kitchens that night. But to Draco's pleasure, Weasley had gotten detention too.

The following morning, notes were delivered to Draco, Blasie, and Salem at the breakfast table. They were all the same:

Your detention will take place at eleven o'clock tonight.

Meet Mr. Filch in the entrance hall.

Draco half expected Salem to complain that this was a whole night of studying lost, but he didn't say a word. Like Draco, he felt they deserved what they'd got.

At eleven o'clock that night, they said good-bye to Pansy in the common room and went down to the entrance hall. Filch was already there — and so was Weasley. 

"Follow me," said Filch, lighting a lamp and leading them outside.

"I bet you'll think twice about breaking a school rule again, won't you, eh?" he said, leering at them. "Oh yes. . . hard work and pain are the best teachers if you ask me. . . It's just a pity they let the old punishments die out. . . hang you by your wrists from the ceiling for a few days, I've got the chains still in my office, keep 'em well oiled in case they're ever needed. . . Right, off we go, and don't think of running off, now, it'll be worse for you if you do. "

They marched off across the dark grounds. Salem wondered what their punishment was going to be. It must be something really horrible, or Filch wouldn't be sounding so delighted.

The moon was bright, but clouds scudding across it kept throwing them into darkness. Ahead, Salem could see the lighted windows of Rebus Hagrid's hut. Then they heard a distant shout.

"Is that you, Filch? Hurry up, I want ter get started. "

Weasley stopped dead in his tracks.

"The forest?" he repeated, and he didn't sound quite as cool as usual. "We can't go in there at night — there's all sorts of things in there — werewolves, I heard. "

Draco clutched the sleeve of Salem's robe.

"That's your problem, isn't it?" said Filch, his voice cracking with glee. "Should've thought of them werewolves before you got in trouble, shouldn't you?"

Hagrid came striding toward them out of the dark, Fang at his heel. He was carrying his large crossbow, and a quiver of arrows hung over his shoulder.

"Abou' time," he said. "I bin waitin' fer half an hour already. All right, Ron?"

"I shouldn't be too friendly to them, Hagrid," said Filch coldly, they're here to be punished, after all. "

"That's why yer late, is it?" said Hagrid, frowning at Filch. "Bin lecturin' them, eh? 'Snot your place ter do that. Yeh've done yer bit, I'll take over from here. "  
  


"I'll be back at dawn," said Filch, "for what's left of them," he added nastily, and he turned and started back toward the castle, his lamp bobbing away in the darkness.

Draco now turned to Hagrid.

"I'm not going in that forest," he said, and Salem agreed with him.

"Yeh are if yeh want ter stay at Hogwarts," said Hagrid fiercely. "Yeh've done wrong an' now yeh've got ter pay fer it. "

"But this is servant stuff, it's not for students to do. I thought we'd be copying lines or something, if my father knew I was doing this, he'd—"  
  


"—tell yer that's how it is at Hogwarts," Hagrid growled. "Copyin' lines! What good's that ter anyone? Yeh'll do summat useful or yeh'll get out. If yeh think yer father'd rather you were expelled, then get back off ter the castle an' pack. Go on. "  
  
  


Draco didn't move. He looked at Hagrid furiously, but then dropped his gaze.

"Right then," said Hagrid, "now, listen carefully, 'cause it's dangerous what we're gonna do tonight, an' I don' want no one takin' risks. Follow me over here a moment. "

He led them to the very edge of the forest. Holding his lamp up high, he pointed down a narrow, winding earth track that disappeared into the thick black trees. A light breeze lifted their hair as they looked into the forest.  
  


"Look there," said Hagrid, "see that stuff shinin' on the ground? Silvery stuff? That's unicorn blood. There's a unicorn in there bin hurt badly by summat. This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday. We're gonna try an' find the poor thing. We might have ter put it out of its misery. "

"And what if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?" said Weasley, unable to keep the fear out of his voice.

"There's nothin' that lives in the forest that'll hurt yeh if yer with me or Fang," said Hagrid. "An' keep ter the path. Right, now, we're gonna split inter two parties an' follow the trail in diff'rent directions. There's blood all over the place, it must've bin staggerin' around since last night at least. "

"I want Fang," said Weasley quickly, looking at Fang's long teeth.

"All right, but I warn yeh, he's a coward," said Hagrid. "So me, Salem, an' Draco'll go one way an' Ron, Blaise, an' Fang'll go the other. Now, if any of us finds the unicorn, we'll send up green sparks, right? Get yer wands out an' practice now -- that's it -- an' if anyone gets in trouble, send up red sparks, an' we'll all come an' find yeh -- so, be careful -- let's go. "

The forest was black and silent. A little way into it they reached a fork in the earth path, and Salem, Draco, and Hagrid took the left path while Weasley, Blaise, and Fang took the right.

They walked in silence, their eyes on the ground. Every now and then a ray of moonlight through the branches above lit a spot of silver-blue blood on the fallen leaves.

Salem saw that Hagrid looked very worried.

"Could a werewolf be killing the unicorns?" Salem asked.

"Not fast enough," said Hagrid. "It's not easy ter catch a unicorn, they're powerful magic creatures. I never knew one ter be hurt before. "

They walked past a mossy tree stump. Salem could hear running water; there must be a stream somewhere close by. There were still spots of unicorn blood here and there along the winding path.

Hagrid whispered. "Don' worry, it can't've gone far if it's this badly hurt, an' then we'll be able ter -- GET BEHIND THAT TREE!"

Hagrid seized Salem and Draco and hoisted them off the path behind a towering oak. He pulled out an arrow and fitted it into his crossbow, raising it, ready to fire. The three of them listened. Something was slithering over dead leaves nearby: it sounded like a cloak trailing along the ground. Hagrid was squinting up the dark path, but after a few seconds, the sound faded away.

"I knew it," he murmured. "There's summat in here that shouldn' be. "

"A werewolf?" Salem suggested.

"That wasn' no werewolf an' it wasn' no unicorn, neither," said Hagrid grimly. "Right, follow me, but careful, now. "

They walked more slowly, ears straining for the faintest sound. Suddenly, in a clearing ahead, something definitely moved.

"Who's there?" Hagrid called. "Show yerself -- I'm armed!"

And into the clearing came -- was it a man, or a horse? To the waist, a man, with red hair and beard, but below that was a horse's gleaming chestnut body with a long, reddish tail. Salem and Draco's jaws dropped.

"Oh, it's you, Ronan," said Hagrid in relief. "How are yeh?"

He walked forward and shook the centaur's hand.

"Good evening to you, Hagrid," said Ronan. He had a deep, sorrowful voice. "Were you going to shoot me?"

"Can't be too careful, Ronan," said Hagrid, patting his crossbow. "There's summat bad loose in this forest. This is Salem Riddle an' Draco Malfoy, by the way. Students up at the school. An' this is Ronan, you two. He's a centaur.

"We'd noticed," said Salem faintly.

"Good evening," said Ronan. "Students, are you? And do you learn much, up at the school?"

"Erm--"

"A bit," said Salem timidly.

"A bit. Well, that's something. " Ronan sighed. He flung back his head and stared at the sky. "Mars is bright tonight. "

"Yeah," said Hagrid, glancing up, too. "Listen, I'm glad we've run inter yeh, Ronan, 'cause there's a unicorn bin hurt -- you seen anythin'?"

Ronan didn't answer immediately. He stared unblinkingly upward, then sighed again.

"Always the innocent are the first victims," he said. "So it has been for ages past, so it is now. "

"Yeah," said Hagrid, "but have yeh seen anythin' Ronan? Anythin' unusual?"

"Mars is bright tonight," Ronan repeated, while Hagrid watched him impatiently. "Unusually bright. "

"Yeah, but I was meanin' anythin' unusual a bit nearer home, said Hagrid. "So yeh haven't noticed anythin' strange?"

Yet again, Ronan took a while to answer. At last, he said, "The forest hides many secrets. "

A movement in the trees behind Ronan made Hagrid raise his bow again, but it was only a second centaur, black-haired and -bodied and wilder-looking than Ronan.

"Hullo, Bane," said Hagrid. "All right?"

"Good evening, Hagrid, I hope you are well?"

"Well enough. Look, I've jus' bin askin' Ronan, you seen anythin' odd in here lately? There's a unicorn bin injured -- would yeh know anythin' about it?"

Bane walked over to stand next to Ronan. He looked skyward. "Mars is bright tonight," he said simply.

"We've heard," said Hagrid grumpily. "Well, if either of you do see anythin', let me know, won't yeh? We'll be off, then. "

Salem and Draco followed him out of the clearing, staring over their shoulders at Ronan and Bane until the trees blocked their view.

"Never," said Hagrid irritably, "try an' get a straight answer out of a centaur. Ruddy stargazers. Not interested in anythin' closer'n the moon. "

"Are there many of them in here?" asked Draco.

"Oh, a fair few. . . Keep themselves to themselves mostly, but they're good enough about turnin' up if ever I want a word. They're deep, mind, centaurs. . . they know things. . . jus' don' let on much. "

"Do you think that was a centaur we heard earlier?" said Salem.

They walked on through the dense, dark trees. Salem kept looking nervously over his shoulder. He had the nasty feeling they were being watched. He was very glad they had Hagrid and his crossbow with them. They had just passed a bend in the path when Draco grabbed Salem's arm.

"Hagrid! Look! Red sparks, the others are in trouble!"

"You two wait here!" Hagrid shouted. "Stay on the path, I'll come back for yeh!"

They heard him crashing away through the undergrowth and stood looking at each other, very scared, until they couldn't hear anything but the rustling of leaves around them.

"You don't think they've been hurt, do you?" whispered Draco.

"I don't care if Weasley has, but if something's got Blaise. . . it's our fault he's here in the first place. "

The minutes dragged by. Their ears seemed sharper than usual. Salem's seemed to be picking up every sigh of the wind, every cracking twig. What was going on? Where were the others?

At last, a great crunching noise announced Hagrid's return. Weasley, Blaise, and Fang were with him. Hagrid was fuming. Weasley, it seemed, had sneaked up behind Blaise and grabbed him as a joke. Blaise had panicked and sent up the sparks.

"We'll be lucky ter catch anythin' now, with the racket you two were makin'. Right, we're changin' groups —Blaise, you stay with me an' Draco, Salem, you go with Fang an' Ron,"

So Salem set off into the heart of the forest with Weasley and Fang. They walked for nearly half an hour, deeper and deeper into the forest, until the path became almost impossible to follow because the trees were so thick. Salem thought the blood seemed to be getting thicker. There were splashes on the roots of a tree, as though the poor creature had been thrashing around in pain close by. Salem could see a clearing ahead, through the tangled branches of an ancient oak.

"Look -- " he murmured, holding out his arm to stop Weasley.

Something bright white was gleaming on the ground. They inched closer.

It was the unicorn all right, and it was dead. Harry had never seen anything so beautiful and sad. Its long, slender legs were stuck out at odd angles where it had fallen and its mane was spread pearly-white on the dark leaves.

Salem had taken one step toward it when a slithering sound made him freeze where he stood. A bush on the edge of the clearing quivered. . . Then, out of the shadows, a hooded figure came crawling across the ground like some stalking beast. Salem, Weasley, and Fang stood transfixed. The cloaked figure reached the unicorn, lowered its head over the wound in the animal's side, and began to drink its blood.

"AAAAAAAAAARGH!"

Weasley let out a terrible scream and bolted -- so did Fang. The hooded figure raised its head and looked right at Salem—unicorn blood was dribbling down its front. It got to its feet and came swiftly toward Salem —he couldn't move for fear.

Then a pain like he'd never felt before pierced his head. Half blinded, he staggered backward. He heard hooves behind him, galloping, and something jumped clean over Salem, charging at the figure.

The pain in Salem's head was so bad he fell to his knees. It took a minute or two to pass. When he looked up, the figure had gone. A centaur was standing over him, not Ronan or Bane; this one looked younger; he had white-blond hair and a palomino body.

"Are you all right?" said the centaur, pulling Salem to his feet.

"Yes —thank you —what was that?"

The centaur didn't answer. He had astonishingly blue eyes, like pale sapphires. He looked carefully at Salem, his eyes lingering on Salem's forehead.

"You are the Lord's so," he said. "You had better get back to Hagrid. The forest is not safe at this time — especially for you. Can you ride? It will be quicker this way.

"My name is Firenze," he added, as he lowered himself on to his front legs so that Salem could clamber onto his back.

There was suddenly a sound of more galloping from the other side of the clearing. Ronan and Bane came bursting through the trees, their flanks heaving and sweaty.

"Firenze!" Bane thundered. "What are you doing? You have a human on your back! Have you no shame? Are you a common mule?"

"Do you realize who this is?" said Firenze. "This is the Lord's son. The quicker he leaves this forest, the better. "

"What have you been telling him?" growled Bane. "Remember, Firenze, we are sworn not to set ourselves against the heavens. Have we not read what is to come in the movements of the planets?"

Ronan pawed the ground nervously. "I'm sure Firenze thought he was acting for the best," he said in his gloomy voice.

Bane kicked his back legs in anger.

"For the best! What is that to do with us? Centaurs are concerned with what has been foretold! It is not our business to run around like donkeys after stray humans in our forest!"

Firenze suddenly reared on to his hind legs in anger, so that Salem had to grab his shoulders to stay on.

"Do you not see that unicorn?" Firenze bellowed at Bane. "Do you not understand why it was killed? Or have the planets not let you in on that secret? I set myself against what is lurking in this forest, Bane, yes, with humans alongside me if I must. "

And Firenze whisked around; with Salem clutching on as best he could, they plunged off into the trees, leaving Ronan and Bane behind them.

Salem didn't have a clue what was going on.

"Why's Bane so angry?" he asked. "What was that thing you saved me from, anyway?"

Firenze slowed to a walk, warned Salem to keep his head bowed in case of low-hanging branches, but did not answer Salem's question. They made their way through the trees in silence for so long that Salem thought Firenze didn't want to talk to him anymore. They were passing through a particularly dense patch of trees, however, when Firenze suddenly stopped.

" Salem Riddle, do you know what unicorn blood is used for?"

"No," said Salem, startled by the odd question. "We've only used the horn and tail hair in Potions. "

"That is because it is a monstrous thing, to slay a unicorn," said Firenze. "Only one who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain, would commit such a crime. The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive, even if you are an inch from death, but at a terrible price. You have slain something pure and defenseless to save yourself, and you will have but a half-life, a cursed life, from the moment the blood touches your lips. "

Salem stared at the back of Firenze's head, which was dappled silver in the moonlight.

"But who'd be that desperate?" he wondered aloud. "If you're going to be cursed forever, death's better, isn't it?"  
  


"It is," Firenze agreed, "unless all you need is to stay alive long enough to drink something else — something that will bring you back to full strength and power — something that will mean you can never die. Mr. Riddle, do you know what is hidden in the school at this very moment?"

"The Sorcerer's Stone! Of course — the Elixir of Life! But I don't understand who — "

"Can you think of nobody who has waited many years to return to power, who has clung to life, awaiting their chance?"

It was as though an iron fist had clenched suddenly around Salem's heart. Over the rustling of the trees.

"Do you mean," Salem croaked, "that was Grin-"

" Salem! Salem, are you all right?"

Draco was running toward them down the path, Hagrid puffing along behind her.

"I'm fine," said Salem, hardly knowing what he was saying. "The unicorn's dead, Hagrid, it's in that clearing back there. "

"This is where I leave you," Firenze murmured as Hagrid hurried off to examine the unicorn. "You are safe now. "

Salem slid off his back.

"Good luck, Salem Riddle," said Firenze. "The planets have been read wrongly before now, even by centaurs. I hope this is one of those times. "

He turned and cantered back into the depths of the forest, leaving Harry shivering behind him.

Blaise was wide-eyed as Salem began to tell him and Draco what had happened in the forest.

Salem couldn't sit down. He paced up and down in front of the fire. He was still shaking.

"Snape wants the stone for Grindelwald. . . and Grindelwald's waiting in the forest. . . and all this time we thought Snape just wanted to betray my Father. . . "

"Stop saying the name!" said Blaise in a terrified whisper, as if he thought Grindelwald could hear them.

"So all I've got to wait for now is Snape to steal the Stone," Salem went on feverishly, "then Grindelwald will be able to come and finish me off. . . Well, I suppose Bane'll be happy. "

Draco looked very frightened, but she had a word of comfort.

"Salem, everyone says Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was ever afraid of with Dumbledore around, You-Know-Who won't touch you. Anyway, who says the centaurs are right? It sounds like fortune-telling to me, and Minerva says that's a very imprecise branch of magic. "

The sky had turned light before they stopped talking. They went to bed exhausted, their throats sore. But the night's surprises weren't over.

 **( Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone 247-** **261** **)**

**____________________**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, my laptop has completely died from a shot battery. Although this has happen I will try my best to get the last chapter out to you guys, this could delay when I planned to post it. So please, I ask you to remain patience and not to give up on this book. Until then.


	10. «-(¯'v'¯)-« cнαρтεя 9 »-(¯'v'¯)-»

# «-(¯'v'¯)-« тняσυgн тнε тяαρ∂σσя »-(¯'v'¯)-»

**____________________**

  
**_Words_** **-** Parseltongue  
Words- Storyline   
**Words** \- Spells  
  


** ____________________ **

In years to come, Salem would never quite remember how he had managed to get through his exams when he half expected Grindelwald to come bursting through the door at any moment. Yet the days crept by and there could be no doubt that the Cerberus was still alive and well behind the locked door.

It was swelteringly hot, especially in the large classroom where they did their written papers. They had been given special, new quills for the exams, which had been bewitched with an Anti- Cheating spell.

They had practical exams as well. Professor Flitwick called them one by one into his class to see if they could make a pineapple tap- dance across a desk. Professor McGonagall watched them turn a mouse into a snuff-box – points were given for how pretty the snuff-box was, but taken away if it had whiskers. Snape made them all nervous, breathing down their necks while they tried to remember how to make a Forgetfulness Potion.

Salem did the best he could, trying to ignore the stabbing pains in his forehead, which had been bothering him ever since his trip into the forest. Daphne thought Salem had a bad case of exam nerves because Salem couldn't sleep, but the truth was that Salem kept being woken by his old nightmare, except that it was now worse than ever because there was a hooded figure dripping blood in it.

Maybe it was because they hadn't seen what Salem had seen in the forest, or because they didn't have scars burning on their foreheads, but Blaise and Draco didn't seem as worried about the Stone as Salem. The idea of Grindelwald certainly scared them, but he didn't keep visiting them in dreams, and they were so busy with their studying they didn't have much time to fret about what Snape or anyone else might be up to.

Their very last exam was History of Magic. One hour of answering questions about batty old wizards who'd invented selfstirring cauldrons and they'd be free, free for a whole wonderful week until their exam results came out. When the ghost of Professor Binns told them to put down their quills and roll up their parchment, They couldn't help cheering with the rest.

"That was far easier than I thought it would be," said Draco as they joined the crowds flocking out onto the sunny grounds. "I needn't have learned about the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct or the uprising of Elfric the Eager."

Draco and Salem always liked to go through their exam papers afterward, but Blaise said this made him feel ill, so they wandered down to the lake and flopped under a tree. Daphne and Pansy were tickling the tentacles of a giant squid, which was basking in the warm shallows. "No more studying," Blaise sighed happily, stretching out on the grass. "You could look more cheerful,Salem, we've got a week before we find out how badly we've done, there's no need to worry yet."

Salem was rubbing his forehead.

"I wish I knew what this means!" he burst out angrily. "My head keeps hurting -- it's happened before, but never as often as this."

"Go to Madam Pomfrey," Draco suggested.

"I'm not ill," said Salem. "I think it's a warning... it means danger's coming..."

Blaise couldn't get worked up, it was too hot.

" Salem, relax,Draco's right, the Stone's safe as long as Dumbledore's around. Anyway, we've never had any proof Snape found out how to get past Fluffy. He nearly had his leg ripped off once, he's not going to try it again in a hurry."

Salem nodded, but he couldn't shake off a lurking feeling that there was something he'd forgotten to do, something important. When he tried to explain this,Draco said, "That's just the exams. I woke up last night and was halfway through my Transfiguration notes before I remembered we'd done that one."

Salem was quite sure the unsettled feeling didn't have anything to do with work, though.

**_(Section skipped)_ **

**____________________**

It was mid-afternoon when Salem and his friends had decided to go back to the dorms. But, Salem had something else different in mind...

"Be warned, Riddle — any more nighttime wanderings and I will personally make sure you are expelled. Good day to you."

Filch strode off in the direction of the staffroom.

Salem turned to the others.

"Right, here's what we've got to do," he whispered urgently. "One of us has got to keep an eye on Snape — wait outside the staff room and follow him if he leaves it.Blaise, you'd better do that."

"Why me?"

"It's obvious," said Draco. "You can pretend to be waiting for Professor Flitwick, you know." He put on a high voice, "'Oh Professor Flitwick, I'm so worried, I think I got question fourteen b wrong... '"

"Oh, shut up," said Blaise, but he agreed to go and watch out for Snape.

"And we'd better stay outside the third-floor corridor," Salem told Draco. "Come on."

**____________________**

The boys had given up sooner than expected. No one had came to the third corridor.

Salem and Draco went back to the common room, Salem had just said, "At least Blaise's on Snape's tail," when the portrait of the Snake swung open and Blaine came in.

"I'm sorry, Salem!" he wailed. "Snape came out and asked me what I was doing, so I said I was waiting for Flitwick, and Snape went to get him, and I've only just got away, I don't know where Snape went."

"Well, that's it then, isn't it?" Salem said.

The other two stared at him. He was pale and his eyes were glittering, at this point it was mostly red.

"I'm going out of here tonight and I'm going to try and get to the Stone first."

"You're mad!" said Draco.

"You can't!" said Blaise. " You'll be expelled!"

"SO WHAT" Salem shouted. "Don't you understand? If Snape gets hold of the Stone, Grindelwald's coming back! Haven't you heard what it was like when he was trying to take over? There won't be any Hogwarts to get expelled from! He'll flatten it, or turn it into a school for the Dark Arts! Losing points doesn't matter anymore, can't you see? I'm going through that trapdoor tonight and nothing you two say is going to stop me! I can't— won't let him take my father's spot as dark lord."

He glared at them.

"You're right Salem," said Draco in a small voice.

"I'll use the invisibility spell," said Salem. " I'm glad I learnt it."

"But will it cover all three of us?" said Blaise.

"All — all three of us?"

"Oh, come off it, you don't think we'd let you go alone?"

"Of course not," said Draco briskly. "How do you think you'd get to the Stone without us? I'd better go and took through my books, there might be something useful..."

"But if we get caught, you two will be expelled, too."

"Not if I can help it," said Draco grimly. "Flitwick told me in secret that I got a hundred and twelve percent on his exam. They're not throwing me out after that."

After dinner the three of them sat nervously apart in the common room. Nobody bothered them; none of the Slytherins had anything to say to Salem, wanting their Lord's son to have some peace. Draco was skimming through all his notes, hoping to come across one of the enchantments they were about to try to break. Salem and Blaise didn't talk much. Both of them were thinking about what they were about to do.

Slowly, the room emptied as people drifted off to bed.

Salem ran to their dark dormitory. He pulled out the flute Lucius had given him for Christmas. He pocketed it to use on the Cerberus — he didn't feel much like singing.

He ran back down to the common room.

" You better cast the spell here, and make sure it covers all three of us—"

"What are you doing?" said a voice from the corner of the room. Pansy appeared from behind an armchair.

"Nothing, Pansy, nothing," said Salem, hurriedly putting his wand behind his back.

Pansy stared at their guilty faces.

"You're going out again," he said.

"No, no, no," said Blaise. "No, we're not. Why don't you go to bed,Pansy?"

Salem looked at the grandfather clock by the door. They couldn't afford to waste any more time, Snape might even now be playing Fluffy to sleep.

"You can't go out," said Pansy, "you'll be caught again. Slytherin will be in even more trouble."

"You don't understand," said Salem, "this is important."

But Pansy was clearly steeling herself to do something desperate.

"I won't let you do it," she said, hurrying to stand in front of the portrait. "I'll —I'll fight you!"

"Pansy, "Draco exploded, "get away from the entrance and don't be an idiot—"

"Don't you call me an idiot!" said Pansy. " I don't think you should be breaking any more rules! And you were the one who told me to stand up to people!"

"Yes, but not to us," said Blaise in exasperation. " Pansy, you don't know what you're doing."

He took a step forward towards Pansy.

"Go on then, try and hit me!" said Pansy, raising her fists. "I'm ready!"

Blaise turned to Salem.

"Do something," he said desperately.

Salem stepped forward.

" Pansy," he said, "I'm really, really sorry about this."

He raised his wand.

" **Petrificus Totalus**." he whispers, pointing it at Pansy.

Pansy's arms snapped to her sides. Her legs sprang together. Her whole body rigid, she swayed where she stood and then fell flat on her face, stiff as a board.

Draco turned her over. Pansy's jaws were jammed together so she couldn't speak. Only her eyes were moving, looking at them in horror.

"What've you done to him?" Blaise whispered.

"It's the full Body-Bind," said Salem. " No one will stand in my way when I defeat Grindelwald."

"You'll understand later, Pansy," said Draco as they stepped over him, Salem preforming the spell perfectly.

But leaving Pansy lying motionless on the floor didn't feel like a very good omen. In their nervous state, every statue's shadow looked like Filch, every distant breath of wind sounded like Peeves swooping down on them. At the foot of the first set of stairs, they spotted Mrs. Norris skulking near the top.

"Oh, let's kick her, just this once," Blaise whispered in Salem's ear, but Salem shook his head. As they climbed carefully around her, Mrs. Norris turned her lamplike eyes on them, but didn't do anything.

They didn't meet anyone else until they reached the staircase up to the third floor. Peeves was bobbing halfway up, loosening the carpet so that people would trip.

"Who's there?" he said suddenly as they climbed toward him. He narrowed his wicked black eyes. "Know you're there, even if I can't see you. Are you ghoulie or ghostie or wee student beastie?"

He rose up in the air and floated there, squinting at them.

"Should call Filch, I should, if something's a-creeping around unseen."

Salem had a sudden idea.

"Peeves," he said, in a hoarse whisper, "the Bloody Baron has his own reasons for being invisible."

Peeves almost fell out of the air in shock. He caught himself in time and hovered about a foot off the stairs.

"So sorry, your bloodiness, Mr. Baron, Sir," he said greasily. "My mistake, my mistake — I didn't see you — of course I didn't, you're invisible — forgive old Peevsie his little joke, sir."

"I have business here, Peeves," croaked Salem. "Stay away from this place tonight."

"I will, sir, I most certainly will," said Peeves, rising up in the air again. "Hope your business goes well, Baron, I'll not bother you."

And he scooted off.

"Brilliant, Salem!" whispered Draco.

A few seconds later, they were there, outside the third-floor corridor — and the door was already ajar.

"Well, there you are," Salem said quietly, "Snape's already got past the Cerberus."

Seeing the open door somehow seemed to impress upon all three of them what was facing them. Salem turned to the other two.

"If you want to go back, I won't blame you," he said. " I'll keep the spell going for a while longer. " 

"Don't be stupid," said Blaise

"We're coming," said Draco.

Salem pushed the door open.

As the door creaked, low, rumbling growls met their ears. All three of the dog's noses sniffed madly in their direction, even though it couldn't see them.

"What's that at its feet?" Blaise whispered.

"Looks like a harp," said Draco. "Snape must have left it there."

"It must wake up the moment you stop playing," said Salem. "Well, here goes..."

He put Lucius' flute to his lips and blew, his hands working delicately against the keys. It was a beautiful tune, from the first note the beast's eyes began to droop. Salem hardly drew breath. Slowly, the dog's growls ceased — it tottered on its paws and fell to its knees, then it slumped to the ground, fast asleep.

"Keep playing," Draco warned Salem as they slipped out of the cloak and crept toward the trapdoor. They could feel the dog's hot, smelly breath as they approached the giant heads. "I think we'll be able to pull the door open," said Draco, peering over the dog's back. "Want to go first, Blaise?"

"No, I don't!"

"All right." Draco gritted his teeth and stepped carefully over the dog's legs. He bent and pulled the ring of the trapdoor, which swung up and open.

"What can you see?" Blaise said anxiously.

"Nothing — just black — there's no way of climbing down, we'll just have to drop."

Salem, who was still playing the flute, waved at Blaise to get his attention and pointed at himself.

"You want to go first? Are you sure?" said Blaise. "I don't know how deep this thing goes. Give the flute to Draco so he can keep him asleep."

Salem handed the flute over. In the few seconds' silence, the dog growled and twitched, but the moment Draco began to play, it fell back into its deep sleep.

Salem climbed over it and looked down through the trapdoor. There was no sign of the bottom.

He lowered himself through the hole until he was hanging on by his fingertips. Then he looked up at Blaise and said, "If anything happens to me, don't follow. Go straight to our room and get my mirror to call my Father, right?"

"Right," said Blaise.

"See you in a minute, I hope..."

And Salem let go. Cold, damp air rushed past him as he fell down, down, down and —

FLUMP. With a funny, muffled sort of thump he landed on something soft. He sat up and felt around, his eyes not used to the gloom. It felt as though he was sitting on some sort of plant.

"It's okay!" he called up to the light the size of a postage stamp, which was the open trapdoor, "it's a soft landing, you can jump!"

Blaise followed right away. He landed, sprawled next to Salem.

"What's this stuff?" were his first words.

"Dunno, some sort of plant thing. I suppose it's here to break the fall. Come on, Draco!"

The distant music stopped. There was a loud bark from the dog, but Draco had already jumped. He landed on Salem's other side.

"We must be miles under the school," Draco said.

"Lucky this plant thing's here, really," said Blaise.

"Lucky!" shrieked Draco. "Look at you both!"

He leapt up and struggled toward a damp wall. He had to struggle because the moment she had landed, the plant had started to twist snakelike tendrils around her ankles. As for Salem and Blaise, their legs had already been bound tightly in long creepers without their noticing.

Draco had managed to free himself before the plant got a firm grip on him. Now he watched in horror as the two boys fought to pull the plant off them, but the more they strained against it, the tighter and faster the plant wound around them.

"Stop moving!" Draco ordered them. "I know what this is — it's Devil's Snare!"

"Oh, I'm so glad we know what it's called, that's a great help," snarled Blaise, leaning back, trying to stop the plant from curling around his neck. "Shut up, I'm trying to remember how to kill it!" said Draco.

"Well, hurry up, I can't breathe!" Salem gasped, wrestling with it as it curled around his chest.

"Devil's Snare, Devil's Snare... what did Professor Sprout say? -- it likes the dark and the damp."

"So light a fire!" Salem choked.

"Yes -- of course -- but there's no wood!" Draco cried, wringing his hands.

"HAVE YOU GONE MAD?" Blaise bellowed. "ARE YOU A WIZARD OR NOT?"

"Oh, right!" said Draco, and he whipped out his wand, waved it, muttered something, and sent a jet of bluebell flames. In a matter of seconds, the two boys felt it loosening its grip as it cringed away from the light and warmth. Wriggling and flailing, it unraveled itself from their bodies, and they were able to pull free.

"Lucky you pay attention in Herbology, Draco," said Salem as he joined him by the wall, wiping sweat off his face.

"Yeah," said Blaise, "and lucky Salem doesn't lose his head in a crisis — 'there's no wood,' honestly."

"This way," said Salem, pointing down a stone passageway, which was the only way forward.

All they could hear apart from their footsteps was the gentle drip of water trickling down the walls. The passageway sloped downward, and Salem was reminded of Gringotts. With an unpleasant jolt of the heart, he remembered the dragons guarding vaults in the wizards' bank.

"Can you hear something?" Blaise whispered.

Salem listened. A soft rustling and clinking seemed to be coming from up ahead.

"Do you think it's a ghost?"

"I don't know... sounds like wings to me."

"There's light ahead -- I can see something moving."

They reached the end of the passageway and saw before them a brilliantly lit chamber, its ceiling arching high above them. It was full of small, jewel-bright birds, fluttering and tumbling all around the room. On the opposite side of the chamber was a heavy wooden door.

"Do you think they'll attack us if we cross the room?" said Blaise.

"Probably," said Salem. "They don't look very vicious, but I suppose if they all swooped down at once... well, there's no other choice... I'll run."

He took a deep breath, covered his face with his arms, and sprinted across the room. He expected to feel sharp beaks and claws tearing at him any second, but nothing happened. He reached the door untouched. He pulled the handle, but it was locked.

The other two followed him. They tugged and heaved at the door, but it wouldn't budge, not even when Salem tried an Alohomora charm.

"Now what?" said Blaise.

"These birds... they can't be here just for decoration," said Draco.

They watched the birds soaring overhead, glittering — glittering ?

"They're not birds!" Salem said suddenly. "They're keys! Winged keys — look carefully. So that must mean... " he looked around the chamber while the other two squinted up at the flock of keys. "... yes — look! Broomsticks! We've got to catch the key to the door!"

"But there are hundreds of them!"

Blaise examined the lock on the door.

"We're looking for a big, old-fashioned one — probably silver, like the handle."

They each seized a broomstick and kicked off into the air, soaring into the midst of the cloud of keys. They grabbed and snatched, but the bewitched keys darted and dived so quickly it was almost impossible to catch one.

Not for nothing, though, was Salem the youngest Seeker in a century. He had a knack for spotting things other people didn't. After a minute's weaving about through the whirl of rainbow feathers, he noticed a large silver key that had a bent wing, as if it had already been caught and stuffed roughly into the keyhole.

"That one!" he called to the others. "That big one — there — no, there — with bright blue wings — the feathers are all crumpled on one side."

Blaise went speeding in the direction that Salem was pointing, crashed into the ceiling, and nearly fell off his broom.

"We've got to close in on it!" Salem called, not taking his eyes off the key with the damaged wing. " Draco, you come at it from above Blaise, stay below and stop it from going down and I'll try and catch it. Right, NOW!"

Draco dived, Blaise rocketed upward, the key dodged them both, and Salem streaked after it; it sped toward the wall, Salem leaned forward and with a nasty, crunching noise, pinned it against the stone with one hand. Draco and Blaise's cheers echoed around the high chamber.

They landed quickly, and Salem ran to the door, the key struggling in his hand. He rammed it into the lock and turned - it worked. The moment the lock had clicked open, the key took flight again, looking very battered now that it had been caught twice.

"Ready?" Salem asked the other two, his hand on the door handle. They nodded. He pulled the door open.

The next chamber was so dark they couldn't see anything at all. But as they stepped into it, light suddenly flooded the room to reveal an astonishing sight.

They were standing on the edge of a huge chessboard, behind the black chessmen, which were all taller than they were and carved from what looked like black stone. Facing them, way across the chamber, were the white pieces. Salem, Draco and Blaise shivered slightly - the towering white chessmen had no faces.

"Now what do we do?" Salem whispered.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" said Draco. "We've got to play our way across the room."

Behind the white pieces they could see another door.

"How?" said Blaise nervously.

"I think," said Draco, "we're going to have to be chessmen."

He walked up to a black knight and put his hand out to touch the knight's horse. At once, the stone sprang to life. The horse pawed the ground and the knight turned his helmeted head to look down at Ron.

"Do we — er — have to join you to get across?" The black knight nodded. Draco turned to the other two.

"This needs thinking about... " he said. "I suppose we've got to take the place of three of the black pieces..."

Salem and Blaise stayed quiet, watching Draco think. Finally he said, "Now, don't be offended or anything, but neither of you are that good at chess--"

"We're not offended," said Salem quickly. "Just tell us what to do."

"Well, Salem, you take the place of that bishop, and Blaise, you next to him instead of that castle."

"What about you?"

"I'm going to be a knight," said Draco.

The chessmen seemed to have been listening, because at these words a knight, a bishop, and a castle turned their backs on the white pieces and walked off the board, leaving three empty squares that Salem, Draco, and Blaise took.

"White always plays first in chess," said Draco, peering across the board. "Yes... look..."

A white pawn had moved forward two squares.

Draco started to direct the black pieces. They moved silently wherever he sent them. Salem's knees were trembling. What if they lost?

"Salem — move diagonally four squares to the right."

Their first real shock came when their other knight was taken. The white queen smashed him to the floor and dragged him off the board, where he lay quite still, facedown.

"Had to let that happen," said Draco, looking shaken. "Leaves you free to take that bishop, Blaise, go on."

Every time one of their men was lost, the white pieces showed no mercy. Soon there was a huddle of limp black players slumped along the wall. Twice, Draco only just noticed in time that Salem and Blaise were in danger. He himself darted around the board, taking almost as many white pieces as they had lost black ones.

"We're nearly there," he muttered suddenly. "Let me think — let me think..."

The white queen turned her blank face toward him.

"Yes... " said Draco softly, "It's the only way... I've got to be taken."

"NO!" Salem and Blaise shouted. ( Salem's louder than Blaise's) **_((_** **_Author here: no it's not because Blaise doesn't care about Draco. This is a Darry book so.. ))_**

"That's chess!" snapped Draco. "You've got to make some sacrifices! I take one step forward and she'll take me — that leaves you free to checkmate the king, Salem!"

"But—"

"Do you want to stop Snape or not?"

"Dray—"

"Look, if you don't hurry up, he'll already have the Stone!"

There was no alternative.

"Ready?" Draco called, his face pale but determined. "Here I go — now, don't hang around once you've won."

He stepped forward, and the white queen pounced. She struck Draco hard across the head with her stone arm, and he crashed to the floor — Salem screamed but stayed on his square — the white queen dragged Draco to one side. He looked as if he'd been knocked out.

Shaking, Salem moved three spaces to the left.

The white king took off his crown and threw it at Salem's feet. They had won. The chessmen parted and bowed, leaving the door ahead clear. With one last desperate look back at Draco, Salem and Blaise charged through the door and up the next passageway.

"What if he's — ?"

"He'll be all right," said Salem, trying to convince himself. "What do you reckon's next?"

"We've had Sprout's, that was the Devil's Snare; Flitwick must've put charms on the keys; McGonagall transfigured the chessmen to make them alive; that leaves Quirrell's spell, and Snape's."

They had reached another door.

"All right?" Salem whispered.

"Go on."

Salem pushed it open.

A disgusting smell filled their nostrils, making both of them pull their robes up over their noses. Eyes watering, they saw, flat on the floor in front of them, a troll even larger than the one they had tackled, out cold with a bloody lump on its head.

"I'm glad we didn't have to fight that one," Salem whispered as they stepped carefully over one of its massive legs. "Come on, I can't breathe."

He pulled open the next door, both of them hardly daring to look at what came next — but there was nothing very frightening in here, just a table with seven differently shaped bottles standing on it in a line.

"Snape's," said Salem. "What do we have to do?"

They stepped over the threshold, and immediately a fire sprang up behind them in the doorway. It wasn't ordinary fire either; it was purple. At the same instant, black flames shot up in the doorway leading onward. They were trapped.

"Look!" Blaise seized a roll of paper lying next to the bottles. Salem looked over her shoulder to read it:

Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,

Two of us will help you, which ever you would find,

One among us seven will let you move ahead,

Another will transport the drinker back instead,

Two among our number hold only nettle wine,

Three of us are killers, waiting bidden in line.

Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,

To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:

First, however slyly the poison tries to hide

You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;

Second, different are those who stand at either end,

But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;

Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,

Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;

Fourth, the second left and the second on the right

Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight.

Salem let out a great sigh and Blaise, amazed, saw that he was smiling, the very last thing he felt like doing.

"Brilliant," said Salem. "This isn't magic — it's logic — a puzzle. A lot of the greatest wizards haven't got an ounce of logic, they'd be stuck in here forever."

"But so will we, won't we?"

"Of course not," said Salem. "Everything we need is here on this paper. Seven bottles: three are poison; two are wine; one will get us safely through the black fire, and one will get us back through the purple."

"But how do we know which to drink?"

"Give me a minute."

Salem read the paper several times. Then he walked up and down the line of bottles, muttering to himself and pointing at them. At last, he clapped his hands.

"Got it," he said. "The smallest bottle will get us through the black fire -- toward the Stone."

Harry looked at the tiny bottle.

"There's only enough there for one of us," he said. "That's hardly one swallow."

They looked at each other.

"Which one will get me back through the purple flames?"

Salem pointed at a rounded bottle at the right end of the line.

"You drink that," said Salem. "No, listen, get back and get Ron. Grab brooms from the flying-key room, they'll get you out of the trapdoor and past the Cerberus — go straight to our dorm room and call my Father through the mirror, we need him. I might be able to hold Snape off for a while, but I'm no match for him, really."

" Of course you can, Salem! You're the smartest wizard of our age! You're better than most of the 7th years! " Blaise gushed.

Salem blushed at the compliment.

" But do, be careful!"

"You drink first," said Salem.

He took a long drink from the round bottle at the end, and shuddered.

"It's not poison?" said Salem anxiously, afraid he got it wrong.

"No —but it's like ice."

"Quick, go, before it wears off."

"Good luck — take care."

"GO!"

Blaise turned and walked straight through the purple fire.

Salem took a deep breath and picked up the smallest bottle. He turned to face the black flames.

"Here I come," he said, and he drained the little bottle in one gulp.

It was indeed as though ice was flooding his body. He put the bottle down and walked forward; he braced himself, saw the black flames licking his body, but couldn't feel them — for a moment he could see nothing but dark fire — then he was on the other side, in the last chamber.

There was already someone there -- but it wasn't Snape. It wasn't even Grindelwald.

**____________________**


	11. «-(¯'v'¯)-« cнαρтεя 10 »-(¯'v'¯)-»

# «-(¯'v'¯)-«тнε мαη ωιтн тωσ ғαcεs »-(¯'v'¯)-»

____________________

  
 ** _Words_** \- Parseltongue  
 _Words-Thoughts_  
 **Words** \- Spells

I do not own Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone  
I recommend reading the series.

If I'm being honest I don't know who wrote it now

____________________

It was Quirrell.

"You!" gasped Salem.

Quirrell smiled. His face wasn't twitching at all.

"Me," he said calmly. "I wondered whether I'd be meeting you here, Riddle."

"But I thought — Snape—"

"Severus?" Quirrell laughed, and it wasn't his usual quivering treble, either, but cold and sharp. "Yes, Severus does seem the type, doesn't he? So useful to have him swooping around like an overgrown bat. Next to him, who would suspect p-p-poor, st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell?"

Salem was relived. He didn't— he couldn't believe that Severus would betray his Father.

" You tried to kill me!"

" Yess, yes, yes. I tried to kill you. Your friend Mr. Malfoy accidentally knocked Filtwick over as he rushed to set fire to my robes at that Quidditch match. He broke my eye contact with you. Another few seconds and I'd have got you off that broom. I'd have managed it before then if Snape hadn't been muttering a countercurse, trying to save you."

" Severus was trying to save me?"

"Of course," said Quirrell coolly. "Why do you think he wanted to referee your next match? He was trying to make sure I didn't do it again. Funny, really... he needn't have bothered. I couldn't do anything with Dumbledore watching. All the other teachers thought Snape was trying to stop Gryffindor from winning, he did make himself unpopular... and what a waste of time, when after all that, I'm going to kill you tonight."

Quirrell snapped his fingers. Ropes sprang out of thin air and wrapped themselves tightly around Salem.

"You're too nosy to live, Riddle."

"You let the troll in, during Halloween?"

"Certainly. I have a special gift with trolls — you must have seen what I did to the one in the chamber back there? Unfortunately, while everyone else was running around looking for it, Snape, who already suspected me, went straight to the third floor to head me off — though my plan didn't work out how I would like it. The bait for you to go after the troll didn't work. As well as that dumb dog failing to chomp Severus' leg, got mine instead.

"Now, wait quietly, Riddle. I need to examine this interesting mirror."

It was only then that Salem realized what was standing behind Quirrell. It was the Mirror of Erised.

"This mirror is the key to finding the Stone," Quirrell murmured, tapping his way around the frame. "Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this... but he's in London... I'll be far away by the time he gets back..."

All Salem could think of doing was to keep Quirrell talking and stop him from concentrating on the mirror.

"I saw you and Snape in the forest — " he blurted out.

"Yes," said Quirrell idly, walking around the mirror to look at the back. "He was on to me by that time, trying to find out how far I'd got. He suspected me all along. Tried to frighten me — as though he could, when I had Lord Grindelwald on my side..."

Quirrell came back out from behind the mirror and stared hungrily into it.

"I see the Stone... I'm presenting it to my master... but where is it?"

Salem struggled against the ropes binding him, but they didn't give. He had to keep Quirrell from giving his whole attention to the mirror.

"I heard you a few days ago, sobbing — I thought Severus was threatening you..."

For the first time, a spasm of fear flitted across Quirrell's face.

"Sometimes," he said, "I find it hard to follow my master's instructions — he is a great wizard and I am weak—"

"You mean he was there in the classroom with you?" Salem gasped.

"He is with me wherever I go," said Quirrell quietly. "I met him when I traveled around the world. A foolish young man I was then, full of ridiculous ideas about good and evil. Lord Grindelwald showed me how wrong I was. There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those too weak to seek it... Since then, I have served him faithfully, although I have let him down many times. He has had to be very hard on me." Quirrell shivered suddenly. "He does not forgive mistakes easily. When I failed to steal the stone from Gringotts, he was most displeased. He punished me... decided he would have to keep a closer watch on me..."

Quirrell's voice trailed away. Salem was remembering his trip to Diagon Alley — maybe he had seen Quirrell there..?

Quirrell cursed under his breath.

"I don't understand... is the Stone inside the mirror? Should I break it?"

Salem's mind was racing.

 _What I want more than anything else in the world at the moment_ , he thought, _is to find the Stone before Quirrell does. So if I look in the mirror, I should see myself finding it — which means I'll see where it's hidden! But how can I look without Quirrell realizing what I'm up to?_

He tried to edge to the left, to get in front of the glass without Quirrell noticing, but the ropes around his ankles were too tight: he tripped and fell over. Quirrell ignored him. He was still talking to himself.

"What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!"

And to Salem's horror, a voice answered, and the voice seemed to come from Quirrell himself.

"Use the boy... Use the boy..."

Quirrell rounded on Salem.

"Yes — Riddle —come here."

He clapped his hands once, and the ropes binding Salem fell off. Salem got slowly to his feet.

"Come here," Quirrell repeated. "Look in the mirror and tell me what you see."

Salem walked toward him.

_I must lie, he thought desperately. I must look and lie about what I see, that's all._

Quirrell moved close behind him. Salem breathed in the funny smell that seemed to come from Quirrell's turban. He closed his eyes, stepped in front of the mirror, and opened them again.

He saw his reflection, pale and scared-looking at first. But a moment later, the reflection smiled at him. It put its hand into its pocket and pulled out a blood-red stone. It winked and put the Stone back in its pocket — and as it did so, Salem felt something heavy drop into his real pocket. Somehow — incredibly —he'd gotten the Stone.

"Well?" said Quirrell impatiently. "What do you see?"

Salem screwed up his courage.

"I see myself with my father and my mother," he invented. "M— My father achieved his goal."

Quirrell cursed again.

"Get out of the way," he said. As Salem moved aside, he felt the Sorcerer's Stone against his leg. Dare he make a break for it?

But he hadn't walked five paces before a high voice spoke, though Quirrell wasn't moving his lips.

"He lies... He lies..."

"Riddle, come back here!" Quirrell shouted. "Tell me the truth! What did you just see?"

The high voice spoke again.

"Let me speak to him... face-to-face..."

"Master, you are not strong enough!"

"I have strength enough... for this..."

Salem felt as if Devil's Snare was rooting him to the spot. He couldn't move a muscle. Petrified, he watched as Quirrell reached up and began to unwrap his turban. What was going on? The turban fell away. Quirrell's head looked strangely small without it. Then he turned slowly on the spot.

Salem would have screamed, but he couldn't make a sound. Where there should have been a back to Quirrell's head, there was a face, the most terrible face Salem had ever seen. It was chalk white with mismatched glaring eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake.

" Salem Riddle... " it whispered.

Salem tried to take a step backward but his legs wouldn't move.

"See what I have become?" the face said. "Mere shadow and vapor... I have form only when I can share another's body... but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds... Unicorn blood has strengthened me, these past weeks... you saw faithful Quirrell drinking it for me in the forest... and once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own... Now... why don't you give me that Stone in your pocket?"

So he knew. The feeling suddenly surged back into Salem's legs. He stumbled backward.

"Don't be a fool," snarled the face. "Better save your own life and join me... or you'll meet the same end as your mother and soon your father... He will die, begging me for mercy..."

"LIAR!" Salem shouted suddenly.

Quirrell was walking backward at him, so that Grindelwald could still see him. The evil face was now smiling.

"How touching... " it hissed. " Now give me the Stone."

"NEVER!"

Salem sprang toward the flame door, but Grindelwald screamed "SEIZE HIM!" and the next second, Salem felt Quirrell's hand close on his wrist. At once, a needle-sharp pain seared across Salem's forehead; his head felt as though it was about to split in two; he yelled, struggling with all his might, and to his surprise, Quirrell let go of him. The pain in his head lessened —he looked around wildly to see where Quirrell had gone, and saw him hunched in pain, looking at his fingers — they were blistering before his eyes.

"Seize him! SEIZE HIM!" shrieked Grindelwald again, and Quirrell lunged, knocking Salem clean off his feet landing on top of him, both hands around Salem's neck — Salem's forehead was almost blinding him with pain, yet he could see Quirrell howling in agony.

"Master, I cannot hold him — my hands — my hands!"

And Quirrell, though pinning Salem to the ground with his knees, let go of his neck and stared, bewildered, at his own palms —Salem could see they looked burned, raw, red, and shiny.

"Then kill him, fool, and be done!" screeched Grindelwald.

Quirrell raised his hand to perform a deadly curse, but Salem, by instinct, reached up and grabbed Quirrell's face —

"AAAARGH!"

Quirrell rolled off him, his face blistering, too, and then Salem knew: Quirrell couldn't touch his bare skin, not without suffering terrible pain — his only chance was to keep hold of Quirrell, keep him in enough pain to stop him from doing a curse.

Salem jumped to his feet, caught Quirrell by the arm, and hung on as tight as he could. Quirrell screamed and tried to throw Salem off — the pain in Salem's head was building — he couldn't see — he could only hear Quirrell's terrible shrieks and Grindelwald's yells of, "KILL HIM! KILL HIM!" and other voices, maybe in Salem's own head, crying, "Salem!Salem!"

He felt Quirrell's arm wrenched from his grasp, knew all was lost, and fell into blackness, down... down... down...

____________________

Salem felt like he was floating in water, his eyes hard to open. When he finally did, he saw pitch black.

" Salem... My son... " A voice called out through the silence.

" M-mom?! "

____________________

Salem couldn't see anything when he woke up. His vision blurred, ears pounding, head throbbing...

" —lem? Salem! " A voice had called out.

The ringing in his ears and his blurred vision had stopped at once, although the throbbing in his head remained.

" Draco..? W– what happened...? " He tries to sit up, only for hand to push him down.

" Don't get up Sal... Madam Pomfrey said you had multiple magical seizures, or something along those lines, while you were here. " Draco said, looking at his childhood friend in worry.

"How long have I been in here?"

" Almost a week..."

" A week?!"

Draco shushed him, they could hear the doors of the Hospital wing slam open, an irritated Voldemort walking in, Severus and Lucius in heel.

" Father. Didn't think you would come, " Salem sat up, ignoring Draco's protest. " did you come to reprimand me? "

" I did not. I'm not mad nor am I disappointed in you. " Tom glanced at Lucius, sending the silent message for he, Draco, and Severus to leave the room. Lucius gives a short nod at him, taking Draco's hand and leading the two others out of the room.

Tom sits on the side of the bed, his right-hand rests itself on Salem's forehead, trying to sense temperature. Salem's eyes widen, this was the first time that Tom had shown his fatherly side ever since they lost his mother.

" You're burning up."

Salem hadn't noticed, he felt cold. He looked up at his dad...

No...

His mom... But his mom isn't alive... He felt something wet on his face, his hand went to touch it...

Water... Tears..?

"Salem? Hey, just look at me... Breathe."

That was his Dad's voice... He tries to match his breathing to his Dad's. What is happening..? _He's the son of Lord Voldemort! He can't be crying..._

"Salem... You may be my son, but that doesn't mean you need to be brave all the time, especially around me, or the peers you may trust along your journey." Tom vocalized.

Salem's eyelids felt heavy, he laid back on the pillow and fell slowly into unconsciousness.

Tom sighed softly, as he looked at his son peacefully asleep. As much as he wanted Salem to stay a kid while he still can, he knew it was inevitable with the war he planned to start with Dumbledore. It'll be dishonoring the wishes of his wife, Aelinor, forcing Salem to grow up faster than he should...

He softly kissed Salem's forehead, biding him a farewell, before taking his leave.

____________________

Salem was let out of the Hospital Wing days after Tom had come to visit. Draco and Blaise by his side the whole time. Not too long after the end of the year feast had rolled around, Slytherin claiming victory over the House Cup, and as well as the Quidditch Cup, with Rowan Copper as the stand-in Seeker. 

According to both Draco, "They have nothing against you, Salem!" 

Salem lied in his bed thinking about it, his heart fluttering when he pictured Draco.

Salem had almost forgotten that the exam results were still to come, but come they did. Both Draco and Blaise passed with good marks; Salem, of course, had the best grades of the first years. 

And suddenly, their wardrobes were empty, their trunks were packed, Salem's snake was found lurking in a corner of the bedroom; notes were handed out to all students, warning them not to use magic over the holidays; Hagrid was there to take them down to the fleet of boats that sailed across the lake; they were boarding the Hogwarts Express; talking and laughing as the countryside became greener and tidier; eating Bettie Bott's Every Flavor Beans as they sped past Muggle towns; pulling into platform nine and three-quarters at King's Cross Station.

Salem had spotted Lucius waiting in a dark corner of the Station and wished all his Slytherin friends a great summer prior to heading over to Lucius with Draco. While the passed, Salem happened to hear other Slytherin students, even a few Ravenclaws gossiping to their parents about the Son of their Lord in Hogwarts, or even in their year. 

" Boys, We must hurry your Father is waiting for you, Salem. "   


____________________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Pride month to all my LQBTQ+ readers! 
> 
> There will be a five-chapter short story in between each of the main books. If you ever have suggestions on what they should contain please feel free to email or comment on one of the chapters!


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